Now That You're Here
by Booksforthewin
Summary: The bookstore on 47th street? Yep, that's mine! Unfortunately in order to keep it, I was given an offer I literally could not refuse. Now here I am, stuck with this handsome jerk-face for over a year.
1. Initial Meeting

Enjoy! A/N at the end. (Chapters will be longer in the future!)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

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 _Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives- Nadia Scieva_

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 **Chapter One**

First Meeting

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 _Clack._

 _Clack._

 _Clack._

I'll never understand the fascination with high heels. Sure they make you look taller, but so what? I'm not willing to break my ankle, hell my neck, trying to wear seven-inch stilettos just to appeal to the opposite sex. I mean come on... we already have to wear a death trap on our chest as it is.

 _Clack._

 _Clack._

 _Clack._

Damn her. Damn Alice. She put me in heels. HEELS, for god sakes! _"They're only three inches,"_ she'd said. Like that mattered now, when I'm walking in this never-ending hellhole of a hallway; every step reverberating loudly for everyone to hear. How long is this freaking hallway anyways? _I walked in here like three months ago…_

 _Clack. Clack._

I stop in front of a large frosted door. The numbers ,13201, are etched neatly into the glass. I sigh loudly, pushing open the door. This is gonna be _fun_ …

White. My eyes are assaulted with the color white. It's everywhere, even under my feet. I walk over to the large secretary desk where the blond haired, blue eyed receptionist sits, eyeing me coolly over the glossy white counter top. "Can I help you?" My god her voice is as nasal as a donkey. _He-haw._

"My name is Isabella Swan. I have a meeting with Edward Cullen regarding my shop."

I don't enjoy the knowing smirk she gives me. "Just one moment." She holds up one perfectly manicured finger, while pushing a small black button with her other hand. "Mr. Cullen, your five o'clock is here." I hear static and a garbled voice from behind the desk. "Go on in." She points towards the large double doors behind her.

"Thanks…" How the hell did she understand that? I walk unsteadily to the doors; my legs wobbling slightly from the heels and push open the surprisingly heavy doors.

Unlike the lobby, the room I walk into is varying shades of grey and black. In the corner of the room is a small black sofa and straight ahead, a large black desk. My favorite part of the room: large windows cover three sides of the wall, giving a view of the city below.

"Miss. Swan?" My eyes snap over to the desk in front of me.

Wow. Wowy wow Wow. My mind is mush. The gentleman sitting behind the desk has to be a model. Tall, lean, tousled bronze hair and piercing green eyes. His face is so chiseled I wouldn't be surprised if he could cut glass with his cheek. He raises one perfect eyebrow, waiting for me to speak.

"Uhm... yes." I clear my throat. "You must be Edward Cullen." I walk over to him and shake his hand before sitting down in one of the plush dark chairs in front of him.

"Nice to meet you. Now you're here to discuss the property on 47th street?"

"Yes," I say, fiddling with my fingers. "I know the original contract is set to expire next month on my father's bookstore, but I came here hoping you could extend it for a little while longer- just until I can pay off the rent and debt my father owes your company."

"I don't see how that's possible. You do realize your father was not only behind on rent, but when he died, he still owed over two hundred thousand dollars to this company."

My eyebrows knit together. "That doesn't make any sense. I know my father was behind on rent, but he didn't owe you that much. Why would my father borrow that much money?'

"You have a Bachelor's in English, am I correct Miss. Swan?"

"What-," I start, and then my eyes go wide with realization. "He borrowed your money to send me to college?" Before I'd started college, my father had told me a trust fund had been set up in my name. _There never was a trust fund…_

"Of course at the time, your father still owned the bookstore, so I offered to lend him the money in exchange for thirty percent profit of his sales until I was paid back in full, with five percent interest. Then your father got sick and not only did I stop receiving the money I had lent your father, but he got very behind on rent."

I feel the blood draining from my face as he continues. "I truly am sorry for your loss, but there is no way I can give you leniency on the property. I have a business to run." He purses his lips. "I'll give you to the end of next week to pack up your belongings and then I'll have someone come by and survey the contents of the store and let you know how much you owe me then."

"Please!" I beg. "Please don't do this. I'll do anything to keep it. _Anything_ , I swear!" It was all I had left of my father.

He shifts in his seat, something flashes in his eyes too quickly for me to see. He stares at me, pursing his lips. "Hmm…. I may be able to think of something, but you won't like it."

"I'll do it." I sit at the edge of my seat, staring intently. "I will do anything to keep the store. Anything at all."

He chuckles darkly. "I wouldn't be so quick to say that if I were you. Meet me here Wednesday morning. I need time to think." Standing, he walks out from behind his desk and stands beside me. "I'll see you out to the lobby. I need to speak with security as it is."

I walk slowly beside him in the hallway, shivering when I feel his hand on the small of my back. Numbly I press the button for the elevator, waiting calmly.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes?" My head snaps up to see Mr. Cullen giving me an award winning crooked smile. "Brown eyes are usually dull and boring, but not yours. They have these little flecks of gold and green." I blinked at him several times, my mind going blank.

I'm saved from a response when the elevator doors open. Keeping my head down, I shuffled inside, completely aware of Edward following closely behind me.

There's a moment of awkward silence when the doors shut. I only have time to take a deep breath, when suddenly I feel myself being pushed up against the corner of the elevator.

"What are you doing?" I gasp, unable to process the fact that Mr. Cullen is holding me against the wall with his body. His face is only a few inches away from mine.

"Propositioning," he murmurs against my ear. I barely have time to register his words before his lips are on mine.

I freeze, feeling his tongue trace the outline of my lower lip. He presses his lips harder against mine, willing me to respond. I put my hands on his chest, about to push him away, when he grabs my hips and pushes his against mine. I feel a tingling shock go through my body and when I gasp, I feel his tongue slid into my mouth.

My hands tighten into fists around his shirt, pulling him closer to me. He pushes his hips against mine again as our tongues fight for dominance. Grabbing my leg, he hitches it over his hip and I stiffen against him. I quickly coming back to my senses and shove his chest as hard as I can.

He stumbles away, his eyes full of lust and something else I can't quite understand. Shock? Surprise?

I look down at my shoes, breathing hard. What did I just do? I have never in my life done something so stupid and so reckless before. I willed myself to remember that this was the man I was in debt to. This was the man who was going to throw me out onto the street in a matter of days.

I straighten myself up, staring hard at the elevator doors, when I feel him next to my shoulder. "That was quite a show, Miss Swan." I feel myself tense at his words. "I must say I'm quite impressed. I wasn't expecting you to act with so much _experience._ "

A loud crack echoes through the elevator. His right cheek is red from where I slapped him. I expect him to be angry or shocked by what I did, I know I was, but what surprised me was the fact that he looked rather calm, if not amused.

With a loud ding, the elevator doors slide open, and I rush out of there as quickly as I can. I practically run—well more like wobble—to the truck and shove myself inside the little cab. I throw my heels onto the passenger seat of my little red truck and then unceremoniously throw my head against the steering wheel, cringing when I sound the horn accidentally.

 _What a fucked up day._

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A/N: Believe it or not, but this story has actually been two years in the making. I didn't want to post it until I had finished the story, but being a college student, I don't know when I'll get the chance. This story isn't perfect, I know there are probably grammar errors and plot-holes mixed through this adventure you guys are about to start. Bare with me- I will get to them...eventually.

Constructive criticism is always welcome- but mean/rude ones are not. Suggestions/things you would like to see in the story are also welcome.

This is also my very first time writing a Grown-up Fan-fiction- all my others have been strictly YA. So yes it does have stuff in here that makes me blush and hope to god my mother (who also has a Fanfic account) does not read. Can you block people from reading these things? Asking for a friend...

Please keep naughty comments tame- I may have written this, but I've seriously have never shown anyone this kind of writing before, and I still blush at those kind of comments lol.

I hope you guys liked the first, unedited, chapter, and I hope to see you guys with me along this crazy adventure.


	2. Many Far Wiser

**This chapter is almost twice as long as the first one! :) A/N at the end.**

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

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 _I may be running out of options, but running out isn't an option. — Mark Lawrence_

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 **Chapter Two**

Many Far Wiser

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It's early when I wake up. I have to force myself out of bed, and avoid the temptation of murdering my alarm clock, as I quickly get ready. I grab the black skirt from the night before, tossing on a flowy white top and delighting in the bliss of wearing my worn-out black flats instead of the death traps from last night. Alice wasn't here to dictate my life…. well at least not today.

The drive to Mr. Sexy Molesty Bossy Jerk's work is uneventful—aside from the usual snickers at my poor old red truck and the— _oh, see officer, I really wasn't speeding,_ speeding _._

The walk up to his floor is uneventful too, but as I walk up to the receptionist desk, a different blonde receptionist greets me. Thankfully her distain for me is more cleverly hidden, but I still question the little eye squint she gives me.

Garble comes through the speaker again, but blonde number two waves me ahead. _Do they teach lessons on understanding speaker language?_

I blush as soon as I see his stupid perfect face; my memory from yesterday burns bright in my mind.

"Miss. Swan, a pleasure to see you again." He nods, the smirk on his face causes me to blush even more. "Please have a seat."

Sitting down in the plush leather seat, I notice a large red folder and a small black cassette tape on the corner of his large desk. I lick my lips, trying not to think how he ultimately held my life together. One word from him and I'd be begging on the streets for scraps.

"A-am I going to be a-able to pay off my father's debt?" My voice cracks more then I'd like. I clasp my fingers tightly together, fighting off my nervousness.

"Well that depends entirely up to you, Miss. Swan." He says, adjusting his perfectly pressed tie. "I've spent the last few nights thinking and preparing an agreement that will cover the debt and then some. This folder," he grabs it off the corner, holding it tightly in his grasp. "…Is the agreement that I drew up last night. If we both sign it—then after two years the debt will be fully paid off and you'll be the proud owner of the bookstore on 47th street."

"W-what are to be the terms?" I gulp, trying to hold off the hope I feel bubbling its way up to my chest. It sounds too good to be true.

"Ah, that." His smirk falls a little; his green eyes burn a hole into me. "I spend practically everyday in this office and when I'm not working here I'm working from home, so when I have my occasional outings—to charity events or social junctions, I always go alone. I don't have the talent of meeting people easily, so it gets quite…. lonely for me."

My eyebrows scrunch together. I wonder why he feels the need to tell me this. Doesn't he realize how important my father's bookstore is to me?

"Which brings me to this contract I have here." He removes the thick contract from the red folder and steeples his hands over the paper. "I will agree to pay off all debt and give you the deed to the shop at the end of two years—on the conditions that you will be at my beck and call, that you will agree to drop whatever it is you are doing, and attend any and all events I will have to go to. Whether it's five miles or five hundred miles from here. I'll pay for the costs of course."

I blink. "That's all you want from me?" I say, not hiding back my incredulous laugh. "You just want me as…. as a date? Like a date for hire, kind of thing?"

"No." He says, calmly; coolly—the kind of tone used before the storm. "I would also require a more…. intimate arrangement. As I stated before, I don't have time for anything outside of work. I will pay off everything you owe me on the condition that you make yourself available to me."

I stare to him dumbly for a minute; my mind replays his words over and over again. _Make yourself available to me…. Make yourself available to me…._ Holy shit. _Holy shit!_ "You want me to…. to be your call girl? So basically any time you feel the need to…. well you know what…. you want me to drop whatever I'm doing—just so you can have sex?"

"Yes." He speaks so calmly. Like it's natural for him to offer this sort of agreement.

"How many woman have you made an agreement with?" I can't hide the anger that seeps into my voice—and I don't want to.

"None. I've never done an agreement like this before. I just thought about it the other day when you said that you would _do anythin_ g to keep your father's business."

I purse my lips, shaking my head. "Not this. I won't do this."

"So I guess you were lying to both of us when you said you would do anything? I have nothing to gain from this financially. I'm loosing money by even offering this agreement. But if you don't sign—you will loose the bookstore and you will owe me over two hundred thousand dollars—money that you don't have."

I lock my jaw, glaring up at him. "No."

He sighs, reaching for the cassette tape. "Do you know what this is?" I shake my head. "It's a security tape from yesterday. The tape from the elevator where _you_ assaulted me."

"What?" My mouth drops open. "You've got to be kidding me. You were the one who forced themselves on me!"

"Well that may certainly be the truth, but according to this footage…" He places the cassette in his computer, and then turns the screen in front of me.

The footage shows us walking into the elevator and then it shows him pushing me against the wall and kissing me. But what totally and completely shocks me is how into it my black and white mini-self seems. Mini-me is kissing him back for all it's worth and when did I put my hands in his hair? _Did I just touch his butt?_ And then the footage shows me shoving him away and then slapping him, _hard_ , across the face.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" I ask, tearing my gaze from the insulting footage. _Mini-me is a traitor._

"I'm just putting that footage out there. I would hate for something bad to happen from the wrong people seeing it."

"So you are blackmailing me. Just under the pretense that I'll get something from it." No matter how angry and upset I am, I can't totally discredit his offer. I would have to spend the rest of my life working two/three jobs and live in the crappiest apartment possible, just to make enough money to pay him back by the time I was sixty—if I was lucky.

And If I was being totally honest with myself…. I wouldn't exactly call it torture to be with someone that looked like him.

"Are you," I gulp, "clean?"

"Yes." He nods. "I've included the test in the agreement. If you agree then you'll have to take one too. As well as birth control—which I will pay for."

I fight back the absurdity. "A year and a half is the most that I'll agree to. I don't want to be completely nude and I don't want you to kiss me…. on the lips."

"Why?" He tilts his head, his green eyes appraising.

"It's too personal for me." I say. Never mind the fact that I'm giving myself to him in ever other aspect of the way. "When I kiss someone it's because I like them or love them and I won't let you have that. As for nudity—I just don't feel comfortable naked."

"Alright, fine. I'll make changes in the agreement. Anything else?"

"Leave me out of it on my birthday. That's a deal breaker. Also Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. And I want some personal days. Like days where this," I motion to myself/my body. "this is off limits."

"I'll give you your birthday and Christmas Day—I can't guarantee Christmas Eve. You've got some personal days too."

"Okay." I say. "Give me the contract." He slides it over and I carefully read through it, dissecting each sentence as I go along. I grab a pen off the desk and then stupidly, irresponsibly and dumbly sign my life away.

I slide the paper to him on the desk, meeting his dark green eyes. The smile he gives me is sensuous; it makes my heart flutter in my chest. He opens the drawer to his right and pulls out a credit card. "This is for you. The events I go to are rather fancy and so you'll be needing a lot of clothes. I have a list with the receptionist about the events I'm attending for the next two months. It'll detail the attire that's required for these events. She thinks you're the new event manager."

I purse my lips. "You seem to have it all figured out. How did you know I'd agree to this?"

"I didn't know." Edward says. He stands and walks around until he's leaning against his desk less than a foot from me. "I'd only hoped." He reaches out a hand, I hesitate before taking it, and he pulls me up so that I'm leaning against the desk next to him. Our hips are almost touching.

"So…" I say. "What now?"

He laughs deep in his throat, making my stomach clench. "I can think of a few things." I watch as he leans his head down, and presses his lips against the hollow of my neck.

I just sit there, unsure of what to do as he traces his lips along my neck and up my jaw. One part of me wants to shove him away again and storm out, but the other half—the more dominate half—wants to let him keep kissing me. That part of me is also enjoying his kisses a little more then she should.

"Relax." He whispers against my jaw. His lips get dangerously close to my lips and before I can process what I'm doing, my lips meet his.

His lips press hard against mine and I can't help the little moan I give when I feel his tongue trace my bottom lip. He groans in response, prying my lips open with his. He explores my mouth; his tongue caresses mine.

His hands roam across my clothing and I moan again when I feel his hands against the underside of my breasts. He doesn't stop though—his hands progressively get lower and lower, until I feel his hands slide under my skirt and caress my thighs.

I stiffen slightly and push him away lightly when he takes a step forward and stand up straight, fixing my skirt. "I have to go," I say, not meeting his gaze. "I'll…. I'll see you later." I don't look at him as I rush out of his office.

My cheeks flush when the receptionist looks up at me and I'm afraid she somehow knows what I'd just done. But she smiles at me and hands me a manila folder. "Welcome to our company. We're glad you came." My face turns even redder at her last words, and I mumble a thank you before fleeing out of the office and into the elevator.

For the next year and a half my life practically belonged to him. My life would revolve around him. But after that…. after that, my life would be my own and the bookstore would be mine. _Mine_. I would never have to worry about losing it again.

"Oh this is so messed up." I grumble as the elevator doors ding open. I stomp out of the building, ignoring the curious looks I receive from my foul mood and practically slam my door shut as I get into my truck.

I scrunch my nose, staring at the offending manila folder, before opening it. Two sheets of paper and an envelope fall onto my lap. I set the letter aside and look down at the sheets of paper.

 _Thursday, October 6_ _rd_ _…. Charity Auction, 3pm (Semi-formal.)_

 _Sunday, October 15th…. Charity/Publicity Derby 11am (Semi-formal. Specific attire required—speak to Laura at Niemen Marcus.)_

 _Tuesday, October 18th…. Luncheon at Mario's, 11am (Semi-casual.)_

 _Thursday, November 8_ _th_ _…. Luncheon at Three Trees, 12pm (Semi-causal.)_

 _Saturday, November 16_ _th_ _…. Opera, opening night, 7pm (Black-tie.)_

Holy shit. I read on and on, cursing again when I realize the paper is double sided. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't have time to himself. Of course now it looked like I would never have time to myself either.

I jump in my seat when my phone starts ringing loudly. I pause for a heartbeat, afraid it might be him, but let out a loud sigh when Alice's name pops up on the screen.

"Psychic Hotline, you have the wrong number."

"I knew you were going to say that." Alice mutters through the phone.

"Yeah I'm sure you did Miss. Psychic." I grin.

"It's not funny!" She bristles. "I told you that I sometimes have dreams that just happen to come true. It's not my fault you're stuck in the here and now. If you had visions like mine, then you would know I see a tall, handsome—and rich man in your future." My grin slips off my face. "Remember last week when I said you'd forget about our lunch date? Well?"

 _Shit._ "Sorry Alice! I had another meeting with Jerk-face about the bookstore."

"What happened? Did you guys work something out?"

"Sort of," I say, backing out my parking spot. I ignore the annoying horn honk I get from cutting off a mini cooper. _It was an accident!_ "Look—you know I'm not coordinated what so ever. I'll tell you at the restaurant, okay?"

"Okay, but be careful!"

"I'll try not to get run over by a mini cooper." I say, hanging up the phone.

Three horn honks, two fingers, and one fit of road rage later ( _not me, I swear!)_ and I pull into a parking spot of a small chic restaurant.

"Welcome to Maggie's Café and Burgers." The server greets me when I walk in.

I blink at her, holding back my incredulous look. Café and Burgers? _Café and Burgers?_ Well, I mean…. I always wanted a Frappuccino with my burger…. I suppose if I tell myself that several times, it won't sound ridiculous.

The server stares at me expectantly, unaware of my inner food battle, when a lilting voice sounds near the back of the dinning area. "Bella!" I see Alice waving at me from the corner, right next to a large window that over looked the beautiful brick wall of the building next door.

I attempt a smile at the server as I walk past her—although it comes out more like a grimace—and walk quickly over to Alice, flinging myself down into the wooden chair.

"You look flustered." She tilts her head, her eyes inquisitive. "What happened?"

I gawk. "Alice I just got here! Give me a chance to get something to eat or drink before you start with the Spanish Inquisition."

"Well sorry for being your worried best friend." She shrugs, but a smile plays on her lips. "Really though, what happened? You know I worry about you. I would do anything to help you keep the bookstore and I know you would too…" – cue blush— "…So I just want to make sure you didn't get your heart broken over the store."

The waiter saunters up then, bringing me a glass of water, and we quickly order our food.

"So what happened?" She presses after the waiter leaves.

I take a deep breath. What do I tell her? I don't want to lie to her, but I know there's no possible way I can tell her about what I'd agreed to. I go with a half-truth. "He called me in to discuss a possible…. exchange."

"Exchange?" Her brows scrunch together.

I lick my lips. "Yes… He said he would pay off my debts and that I'd own the bookstore after I spend a year and a half as his…. Event Manager."

"Wait, what?" She shakes her head, her voice incredulous. "He's going to pay everything off and he gave you a job? Why does that not sound believable?"

I work at keeping my mini freak-out in check. "Well…. he said he needs someone to accompany him to events…. among other things."

"So, he hired you on as a date?" Her eyebrows are practically engraved in her forehead at this point.

"No." I say, my voice a little too high. I clear my throat and try to speak a little more calmly. "More like a business associate. Kinda like an assistant when he's at these events." I do a mental face palm. It's not even making sense to me.

"It sounds kind of suspicious to me. I bet he's only doing it so he can get in your pants."

I choke on the water I'm drinking. My face turns red from coughing. She has no idea how right she is. "This job requires me to dress up." I say, knowing this will keep her occupied for a while. "And I've been given a company card to purchase said clothing with. I may need some fashion assistance…"

Her face lights up like a kid on Christmas and I know that, for now, the matter is dropped.

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 **A/N** : One thing I wanted to do when I started writing this story, was have it be more of a...you know what kinda story, but the more I wrote, the more I realized that I could use this as a possible platform for dealing with inappropriate behavior. With the importance of consent and understanding- while nothing will happen to Edward (in terms of arrested/loosing his job), there will be some chapters...far far far, off that do deal with the issue of him being confronted with taking advantage of Bella's situation. As well as deal with consent and how what he did was wrong.

I also wanted to make the story be an internal conflict for Bella- she knows that this is wrong, that she is in a hard place- but she does struggle with her attraction to him. And I do believe some real life instances, can be an internal conflict like this- despite it being wrong or inappropriate. I tried to convey what I think her emotions might be like.

I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope you continue this adventure with me.

XO


	3. Slowly Understanding

A/N at bottom. Thank you SunflowerFran for being the best beta ever!

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

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 _Only the development of compassion and understanding for others can bring us the tranquility and happiness we all seek. — Dalai Lama XIV_

 _ **.**_

 **Chapter Three**

Slowly Understanding

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"You can do this. You are a strong independent-ish woman." My reflection sticks out her tongue. _What a bitch …_ I smooth my knee-length blue dress down, staring at my 'Alice approved' look. I'm not a fan of dresses, but I must admit I'm rather fond of the one she'd picked out. It's covered in dark blue lace, fitted at the top with three-quarter sleeves and billows out around the skirt.

"I can do this," I tell myself one more time. I make my way down the stairs of my small upstairs apartment and open the door to the bookstore. It's not much—basically just one giant room filled head to toe with books and a long counter in the alcove of the room.

Two customers browse the shelves, completely engrossed in the titles. Jake, my longtime friend, and part-time employee stands behind the desk, drumming his fingers lazily against the wooden counter.

"You know, if you actually picked up a book, maybe you wouldn't be so bored." I say, stopping on the other side of the counter in front of him.

"Who are you and what have you done with Bella?" He says, his dark eyes wide as he takes in my outfit.

"What?" I look down and smooth my skirt self-consciously.

"You're all dressed up. You must've hit your head or something. I mean you look nice, but wow …"He scratches his head, trying to come up with something to say.

"Thanks, Jake…" I grumble. "You're a real confidence booster."

"Where are you going?" He asks as I walk towards the front door.

"A town hall meeting, Jake. We're going to discuss whether or not we should allow blondes to vote." I shake my head, pulling myself outside. _He's like a little puppy_ , I swear.

I've barely made it a block before a Town Car pulls up beside me. _Okay_... I take a few more steps and then let out an exasperated sigh when it inches forward.

The back window rolls down, and I'm once again met with emerald green eyes. "Good afternoon Miss. Swan. You look lovely."

"I can drive myself." I cross my arms, ignoring his compliment.

He chuckles. "I know you can, but seeing as I'm hosting this event, I have to make an entrance. And since you are my lovely date, it would hardly do to have you show up in that big red truck of yours."

"How do you know—," I start, but stop when he pushes the door open and steps out. I try not to gawk as I notice his dark gray suit. He fills it well … really, really well.

"Miss. Swan." He holds the door open, motioning with his free hand. I stare him down for a good minute before realizing how stupid I must look, and then slide into the back of the car. He shuts the door and sits much closer to me then I'd like.

"You know," I say, not looking at him. "You might as well call me Bella—especially after ... the other day."

He lets out a low, deep laugh that sends a shiver down my spine. "Bella." My name is like a caress against his lips.

I focus my gaze on the stitching of the seat and try hard not to look at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand reach forward and rest lightly on my knee. I suck in a breath.

"The auction shouldn't last more than two hours, but there's a chance we'll be invited to dinner by my brother. After that's over, we can leave. As far as everyone will be concerned—you're my date for the evening. Later, we'll have to figure out something to tell everyone."

I grit my teeth, trying not to think about the hand that's slowly rubbing circles into my knee. "You could just go for good old honesty," I say before I can help myself. _"This is Bella—I'm paying off her debts in exchange for a little action. She's my date/call-girl."_

"You didn't exactly seem to hate it when I had you …"

"I didn't say I did." _Fuck._ Note to self: think before you speak.

His lips twitch, and I feel his hand move higher, towards my thigh.

I turn, frowning at him, and push off his hand. "You're not seriously considering doing it in the car, are you?"

"I'm a guy. That's all we ever think about."

"Ugh." I scoff. "Well, if you could keep your dick on a leash, I'd appreciate it."

"You agreed to this." He says, his voice becoming irritated.

"Yes," I say, my anger quickly matching his own. "I may have agreed to it. But that doesn't mean I have to like this."

"Don't act like you're not benefiting from this." He says.

"Really?" I turn my gaze on him, my eyes wide. "I'm benefiting from this? Paying for my father's store won't even put a dent in your wallet. I'm giving up a year and a half of my life to keep it. I'm giving myself to you, and you think _I'm_ benefitting from it?"

He locks his jaw, his eyes hard, as he turns his gaze from mine. We ride the rest of the way in silence.

 _Ignorant, selfish, ass-hat._

The Town Car pulls up to a stop outside of a large, gray-scale museum. The building is easily three stories high, with wide columns holding up the overhang of the roof. Historically, it looks like a mix between the Victorian era and ancient Greece.

Opening the door, Edward jumps out and extends his hand towards me.

I glare at him, sliding to the edge of the seat and hopping out, ignoring his outstretched hand.

He lets out an irritated huff. "You're supposed to be my date. Can you at least act like it?"

 _How will that benefit me?_ I wanted to snap at him. Instead, I bite my tongue; a plan was quickly formulating in my mind. _He wanted a date?_ Then the _perfect_ date I'd be.

I quickly turn my most dazzling smile on him and swiftly link my arm through his. "Lead the way."

Confusion marred his face for several seconds before he mirrors my smile—albeit with a little suspicion—and then leads us up the stairs and into the museum.

The room is exquisite. The lobby is a mirror of gold and steel, opening into a large rotunda—a skylight stands easily a hundred feet above our heads; sunlight flickers in, basking the room in warm glowing light.

"It's so beautiful." I gasp.

A more genuine smile appears on his lips. "I used to love coming here when I was little. My father would bring me here every time a new shipment would come in. I would often get in trouble for playing with the artifacts."

"Did your father work here?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. I image a little Edward running around, holding some medieval weapon.

He shrugs. "Not exactly. He owns this building."

"He owns a museum?" My voice is full of surprise. This building alone had to of cost millions—not including the interior or the artifacts themselves.

"He owns two others: One on 22nd Street and another one in Chicago."

I look up at the ceiling and sigh. _It must be nice to have money._ I wonder how many other buildings his family owns. The idea of it also frightens me a little. Money means power, and he already held power over me because of that contract. I dreaded the thought of what the fall back could be if I actually did refuse him.

Why couldn't he ask me out like a normal guy? Three dates later—who am I kidding—one date later, and I probably would have slept with him. Obviously, he wasn't the dating type. Hell, he didn't have time to be any type. But the power he held over me wasn't the only thing that scared me. I was scared at how physically attracted I was to him—the way my body responded to his. Personality wise he seemed conceited, egotistical, and downright controlling—but damn if I wasn't attracted to his self-assuredness.

"Mr. Cullen!" We both turn to see an older gentleman walking up to us. He stops a few feet away, his thin, wiry frame is just barely taller than mine. His dark suit is slightly baggy, and I can't help but wonder if it's done on purpose to make him appear a healthier weight. "A pleasure to see you again." He has a slight accent, perhaps French?

"Likewise Mr. Jenks." He says, shaking his hand. "How's life treating you?"

"As good as it can." Jenks laughs, turning towards me. "And who is this exquisite creature?"

Edward opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, not wanting to forget about my plan. "Isabella Swan." I reach out my hand, and he kisses the back of it. " _Es-vous français?"_

His eyes widen with pleasant surprise _. "Oui. Je ne peux pas vous dire quel plaisir il est de parler avec quelqu'un qui connaît ma langue. Je espère que vous le garder sur une laisse serrée."_

I grin, completely aware of Edward's growing confusion. "A very tight one, I can assure you Monsieur."

Mr. Jenks smirks. "I'm very glad to hear that." He turns back to Edward. "Miss. Swan is absolutely charming. You should hold on to this one."

Edward shoots me a suspicious look and tightens his grip on my arm. "Don't worry I plan on it." _Yeah, the contract says as much._

Jenks changes the subject. "I can't tell you how surprised I was to hear about your auction. You know I've been badgering you for months about acquiring some of these pieces, so it's rather nice that I'll get the chance to purchase a few items today."

"Best of luck to you, Jenks." He inclines his head. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I promised Miss Swan I'd show her around before the auction starts."

Saying our goodbyes, he leads me down a long hallway, just as ornate as the lobby. "So you speak French."

"No, I speak German," I say sarcastically.

"What did he say to you?" He bristles.

I look down for a second, trying, and failing to hide my smirk. "He told me to feed and bathe you regularly— and if you're a good boy, to give you snausages."

He laughs, breaking the tension. "I wouldn't mind the baths."

Whoa…. _is it hot in here or is it just me?_ "Yeah, you do kind of smell." I pretend to sniff the air.

 **xXx**

The auction itself is anything but a whirlwind. It's filled with the most boring hours of my life. I'm introduced to people I'll probably never meet again, but I charm them nonetheless, laughing, and smiling at their compliments and flattery. Edward watches me curiously during these conversations; his hand never leaving my waist.

"Lot 663 then …" The auctioneer's voice drones on and on at the front of the room.

We stand at the back, overseeing the small group of finely dressed individuals. I try not to dwell on the fact that they probably make more a year then I'll ever make in my life.

I fight and fail to hold in my yawn.

Edward gives me a small smile, rubbing my back. "It'll be over soon. Only a few more to go, then we can leave."

I start to nod, but then freeze as his words process through my brain. When we leave … What did he expect? _No point going there_ , I already know what he expects. Would we go back to his place? His office?

 _Oh,_ _this_ _is so fucked up!_

"I need to use the ladies room," I say, stepping out of his reach.

He nods, his attention on the auction.

I hurry down the long hallway and practically throw myself into the ladies room. Like the rest of the building, even the bathroom is fancier than my entire apartment. Marble-like floors, wooden stalls, and a gold, gilded mirror set above a long, smooth marble countertop.

I set my hands flat against the counter and stare at my flushed face in the mirror. Could I do this? Could I actually go through with this?

While I admit the thought of _being_ with Edward made my heart flutter in ways that I couldn't help but call traitorous—but the reason I'd agreed to it, made me feel lower then dirt. It made me feel dirty and ashamed. I could only wonder what my dad would have done if he'd found out.

I stare at my reflection, watching as she bites her lips, her eyes searching mine for answers. But the more I stared at my reflection—my mind full of my father, I feel my resolve harden. I knew without a doubt he'd hate what I'd done, but I couldn't bring myself to go back on the contract. I was doing this to keep the shop. The bookstore was the last thing I had left of him, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

A year and a half—that's all. I could do that, then Edward Cullen would be out of my life for good.

 **xXx**

"You just missed my brother," Edward says when I return. "He had to postpone dinner, but we'll have lunch with them on Sunday."

"Okay," I yawn. "How much longer is the auction?"

"It's just about over, but we can leave now if you'd like. My associate can finish up here." He places his hand on my back and leads us towards the entrance.

I hold back the shiver I feel at his touch. I hate the way my body responds—the way I like the feel of his hand on my back. I hate the way I miss his hand when he releases me to open the museum door and the way my body relaxes when he places it back.

We walk down the stone steps and slide into the back seat of Edwards's Town Car. I look around briefly. It's a different car than the one we'd arrived in—roomier somehow, more legroom and wider seats.

Edward taps on the partition, and it lowers slightly, revealing a mop of graying brown hair. "Where to?" The driver's Boston accent is thick.

"My place, Jarred."

I stiffen, my nerves coming back full swing. "Actually-," I say, eying Edward carefully. "…can we swing by my bookstore?"

He stares at me curiously but nods. "You heard the lady. Thanks, Jarred."

"You got it," Jarred says as the partition slides back into place.

"I'm sorry it took so long." He slides back into his seat, rubbing a hand against his forehead. "I forgot how long and tedious auctions can be. I haven't hosted one in a while."

"Why did you?" I ask. "The paper your receptionist gave me said this was a charity auction. Which one?"

"It's for one of the charities my sister-in-law runs. The profits will go to under profited schools that are in need of supplies, renovations, and hopefully, the money will help them to develop their art and music studies."

"Wow," I say, remembering the hundred grand that Mr. Jenks had spent on an antique wardrobe. "That's really wonderful." Without thinking, I reach forward and squeeze his hand gently.

He stares down at our hands, and embarrassed, I try to take my hand back, but he tightens his grip. He smiles. "I think so. Art and music, especially music had a profound influence over me when I was growing up. Without music, I wouldn't have found my family."

"You're adopted?" I ask, surprised. I'd never once thought about his background, but now it churned inside my mind. I wanted to know about his history, and that thought alone scared me. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't want anything to do with him.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." I don't know what else to say.

"Don't be," he squeezes my hand gently and runs his thumb back and forth against my skin. "I couldn't have asked for better parents."

"I know what you mean," I say. "My father was amazing. Even when we were barely getting by, he'd find a way cheer me up—to make the best of it. I don't think I ever realized how much he was actually struggling. He did so much to hide it from me. To keep me happy."

"Is your mother still alive?"

I focus on the thumb that's rubbing soothing circles into my skin. "Yes, as far as I know," I say, unable to hide the bitterness. "She divorced my father when I was ten, and I've only seen her a handful of times since then."

"Does she live here?"

"She was in Florida last time I talked to her." _With husband number four? Five?_

"She's missing out." He whispers it so quietly, I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear. He reaches his hand out and tucks my hair behind my ear.

I jerk back from the intimate gesture.

It's too much.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a loud puff of air as the car comes to a stop in front of my store. "Thank you for accompanying me to the auction today. I'm sorry it was so boring." He smiles slightly, but the gesture doesn't reach his eyes. "I have some work I need to catch up on, but I'll pick you up for the Derby."

Dismissed, and very much relieved, I push open the car door. "I'll see you bright and early on Sunday then."

He nods. "Goodbye, Isabella."

"Edward."

* * *

 **.**

 **A/N:** This is one of my favorite chapters that I've written for this story :) Thank you guys for the wonderful feedback- it really makes my day.

Two questions that I've been asked:

 **Will there be a HEA?**

-YES!

 **Bella said that she doesn't want to kiss on the lips, and then she does it like three seconds later... _(Not really a question question)._**

\- There is a reason for this, it will be explained later on, and Bella doesn't always listen to herself like she should. But I promise you, this will be explained in a later chapter.


	4. Don't Muzzle Me

A/N at bottom. Mild NSFW

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

 _The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. — Oscar Wilde_

 **.**

 **Chapter Four**

Don't Muzzle Me

.

"And they're off!" The announcer shouts.

I crane my neck to see from our box. People cheer, as the horses rush down the track. I smack a hand on top of my head; holding on tightly to the stupid pink fascinator Alice made me wear. The stupid thing keeps trying to fly off with the wind.

"They're going… going!" Announcer guy continues. "Yellow Hat, takes an early lead— Midnight close behind. Eclipse is coming in from the side trying…trying and failing to take the lead. Midnight slips to third. They're coming 'round the bend, coming 'round the bend— Midnight barely holding on to third. Yellow Hat is still in the lead, Eclipse coming in behind. They're getting there…. getting there…. Here he comes ladies and gentleman…. and there we go! Yellow Hat wins the 32nd annual Derby!"

I cheer jovially with the crowd, gasping when my fascinator flies off with the wind. I grab for it, leaning against the railing, but watch as it floats down into the crowd of people below me. Stupid hat. I should feel bad that it's gone, but all I can do is rub my scalp and mentally stick my tongue out at it. _Take that, you fabric bubblegum piece of shit._

"What happened to your hat?" Edward asks, coming up behind me.

I turn, surprised that he's not still talking to some of his friends. "It sprouted wings and flew a way." I grumble, crossing my arms and surreptitiously glance down at the patio below.

Edward sees my gaze anyways and lets out a bemused chuckle. "I'll get you another one."

"I don't want another one." I say _. I want to be curled up in my bookstore reading a book, like the introvert I am._

"What do you want then?" His eyes are beseeching.

"You know what I want." I say a little harsher than I mean to.

His gaze hardens and he looks away. "We need to go to the club, my brother and his wife are waiting for us." He offers me his arm and I take it, arguing that I'm only doing it because of how unsteady I am in my nude heels, and not because I like the feeling. Nope…. I don't like it…. At all. _Denial is my friend._

We follow the crowd of people to the clubhouse and slip right in. The room is what I'd expect any old country club to look like. A mix of white walls and mahogany, the room is large and open—the entire right wall is a window, overlooking the fields below.

"There they are." Edward points to a table at the back and leads me over to it.

I think my ego takes a hit as I take in the beautiful blonde woman who stands to greet us. She's several inches taller than me, her curves filling in her modest red dress wonderfully. "How are you?" She smiles and leans in to hug him, her violet eyes crinkling.

"I'm great." Edward grins, stepping back from the hug and turns to look at who I can only assume to be his brother. "So how much did you lose?"

The curly haired man stands, and I gasp. I don't know how I could have missed him—he's huge: easily 6'3 and a bodybuilder in the making if I ever saw one. "Lose? Are you kidding me? I predicted the winner!"

"Yeah, and he hasn't shut up about it since." Blondie grumbles playfully. Her gaze shifts to me. "Is this your date?"

 _Not by choice…_

"Yes." Edward smiles, turning to look at me. I can see the slight tightening in his eyes. _He wants me to behave…_ "This is Bella. Bella this is my brother Emmett and his wife Rosalie."

"Nice to meet you." I say shyly. I follow their lead and sit down next to the window.

Rosalie's eyes are appraising. "How long have you two known each other?"

"A few weeks." I say, at the same time Edward speaks.

"A while."

She narrows her eyes slightly at Edward.

"How much did you lose?" Emmett speaks, breaking the awkward pause.

"I think the correct statement should be: How much did I win?" He smirks.

Emmett chuckles loudly. "If it's anywhere near how much I won, then I'd say you did pretty damn good brother. How about you Bella? Did you win anything?"

"I didn't bet anything." I say, avoiding Rosalie's curious gaze.

"Probably a good thing." Emmett smiles. "Edward has been known to gloat."

Before Edward can respond to the goading, our waiter arrives and quickly takes our orders.

"How did you two meet?" Rosalie asks after the waiter disappears.

I take a sip of my water, quickly looking over at Edward in panic.

He's not fairing much better. His eyes widen, as if he hadn't expected the Rosalie Inquisition. My inner self throws her hands in the air. Really? _Really?_ He can come up with a way to keep me bound to him, but he can't answer a simple question.

Although I'm not much better…. I'm not even answering her question. I'm just taking the longest sip of water known to man. _Don't mind me…_

"We met at her bookstore." Edward finally says after a minute.

She narrows her eyes and I can tell she doesn't believe him. Not for a minute. "You own a bookstore? Did you major in business?" She fishes.

"No. English with a minor in History and French." I take another sip of water, feeling proud of my accomplishments.

"Nice." She sounds impressed. "How long have you owned the bookstore?"

"I've only had it for about a year. It was my father's business until he died." I look down at my lap and twist my fingers.

"I'm sorry." And for now, at least, the matter's dropped.

Lunch goes by quickly and I find myself enjoying not just the meal, but the conversation as well. Despite my original misconceptions, Rosalie is very passionate about her charities and organizations. I constantly found myself asking her question after question—even agreeing to help her with an upcoming fundraiser. Emmett is a comic relief: very easy to befriend.

When lunch is over, Rosalie and I exchange numbers so I'll be able to help her with future charity events.

When they leave, I drop my smile and follow Edward out to the car, my good mood quickly declining.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks, picking up on my mood swing. He holds open the door for me and then slides in behind me. The partition is still up.

"Nothing." I say; when in truth I hated how well I'd gotten along with his family. It would have been easier to hate him if his family had been rude. I didn't want to like them as much as I had.

"Did you enjoy the race?" He asks, not pushing me further.

"It was alright." I say, being purposefully vague. "Although I would have preferred to be working right now."

"You'd rather be stuck inside today, working, on a day like today?" He points out the window—to the beautifully clear sky.

"Well unlike some people, I survive on the money I make from my store. I can't just drop whatever I'm doing and still make enough money."

His jaw clenches. "In case you forgot, I have a business of my own and you'll receive money from me—as stated in your contract. A contract which says you would drop whatever it is you're doing."

"Yeah..." I scoff. "… drop whatever I'm doing so you can fuck me. Why don't you just attach a collar and whistle for me when you need your fix."

"Maybe I should get you a muzzle." He mutters under his breath.

I see red. My vision hazes and I don't even think about it. I unbuckle my seatbelt and move my legs until I'm straddling him. "Are you sure about that?" I breathe, smirking at his wide eyes.

I lean forward until my lips are against his strong jaw. I breathe in the fresh clean scent. "If I had a muzzle then I wouldn't be able to do this, would I?" I lick him from chin to ear and then kiss my way down to his collarbone, where I gently suck the skin between my teeth. I hear his breath catch. "I wouldn't be able to tell you how nice you smelled or how smooth your skin is when I touch it." I bite down and smile when I hear a low, breathy moan.

I feel him against my thigh and look up into his darkened gaze as I slowly grind myself against him. "I wouldn't be able to tell you how good you feel against me. How good you _taste_." He groans, grabbing onto my hips as I push down onto him again.

Slowly, agonizingly slow, I grind my hips into his. I work hard to keep my own mewls at bay, but fail miserably when his grasp tightens on my hips and he suddenly thrusts himself against me. Hard _._

I moan, pushing back down onto him, as I feel the delicious warmth slowly spreading through my body. My toes curl, my stomach clenches as I feel it deep within me—winding up, tightening, until with one final push I fall over the precipice.

His grip tightens, almost painfully, as he shoves me into him one last time. "Bella." He moans, holding me against him as he rides out his pleasure. I feel the warmth against us, the heat spreading from his pants.

We're breathing hard, both gazing at each other with surprise and lust filled eyes. It's several minutes before I gain enough strength in my legs to push away from him.

It's quiet for a while, only our breathing is loud enough to fill up the car.

Edward, when his breathing has finally slowed down, speaks. "Remind me to insult you more often."

* * *

 **.**

I'm alive.

I'm sorry for not posting in a long long while. Junior year of college is rough. And it's been very mentally exhausting as well. Please keep comments tame-ish, I've never published anything like this before.

*runs and hides*


	5. With No Other Thought

A/N at bottom, per usual :) NSFW at the end.

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 _._

 _There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. — Mark Twain_

.

 **Chapter Five**

With No Other Thought

.

It's 6am on a Tuesday, and I haven't slept in almost two days. I feel like a zombie; all my movements are slow and cautious. I stare at the TV screen, not really paying attention to whatever crime show is playing in the background.

I can't believe I did that. I can't wrap my mind around it. I had been so angry with him— I'd just wanted to show him up and instead I had acted so wanton…so…. so….

"I'm so stupid." I whine/whisper, pulling the blanket over my head. If I don't address the situation, if I hide under this blanket, then I don't have to worry about it—it isn't real.

The phone rings.

"Damn-it." I unfurl myself from the mountain of blankets and grab the phone off the hook, cringing when I feel the cool air against my arm. "Swan: Resident sleep-a-holic speaking."

"Good morning to you too sweetheart." A familiar voice trills.

"Alice." I groan, letting out a large yawn. _Oh great now my body wants to sleep._ "It's six in the morning, why do you feel the need to torture me?"

"Oh please." She laughs and I can practically hear her eyes rolling. "You sleep like the dead. There's no way this phone call would of woken you up if you'd been asleep—which means you're already awake! Thus I am un-responsible for your so called _torture_."

"It's too early in the god-damned morning to be a smart-ass. What. Do. You. Want?" _Formalities be damned._

She sighs dramatically into the phone. "My parents are going to their vacation home for the holidays this year and I was wondering – I mean I know it's a few months away, but I was wondering if you'd like to stay with us for Christmas?"

I feel my chest tighten. The last Christmas I had celebrated was with my father, when he had been sick in the hospital, almost two years ago. It wasn't that I disliked the holiday, in fact it had always been my favorite, but it was hard to be in the festive mood without my father around. I hadn't even considered celebrating it.

I couldn't put into words the effect her offer had on me. For her to invite me to stay with her family was a big deal. I had known Alice since sophomore year in college, and I had never once met her family. She had been so secretive, so unwilling to talk about them or herself really. It was years before I found out how much her family was worth.

Her invitation, whether she realized it or not, would keep me from spending another melancholy, grief-filled holiday alone with nothing to occupy my thoughts but memories that I wish I could relive. _And it wouldn't be until later that I realized her offer would keep me from shattering completely._

"I-I would really like that." I say, my throat tightening.

"Really?" She says. I can tell she's trying hard to rein in her enthusiasm. "I'm so happy! I'm so glad you want to stay with us. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have a friend I can finally trust."

I frown slightly. "You can always trust me."

"I know." She says. "I can't tell you how hard it was growing up and realizing people I always thought were my friends were just using me or just being my friend because my family had money. I think you're the first friend I ever had that never pushed me to talk about myself and even after you found out I was loaded, you never once asked me for anything."

"And I never will." I laugh

"We'll see about that," She laughs. "Now go get some sleep! I'll talk to you when you're more cognitive…. and in a better mood."

After I say my goodbyes, I do somehow manage to fall asleep…if only for a little while.

 **xXx**

The sound of rain is what finally wakes me: the gentle tap-tap against the window. I stretch, pulling my arms above my head and let out a loud yawn as I stare out at the darkened sky.

I stand, fully intending to go hunt down my old copy of Pride & Prejudice when my phone starts ringing.

"Hello? Dead Fictional Character Support Line."

"Bella?" Edward's voice greets me.

I almost drop the phone.

Damn-it. _I really need to start paying attention to Caller ID._ "Uh…. hi?"

"Why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

"I didn't know you called." I frown. "I fell asleep."

"Well why you slept, you missed the Luncheon. I had them post-pone it for half an hour because I thought you might be running late. When you didn't answer the phone, my, now irritated clients, and I went ahead and ate." He says, his voice full of ire.

"I'm sorry." What else can I say?

"Maybe you should invest in an alarm clock." He grumbles, clearly annoyed. "Come to my office, we need to go over the terms again." He hangs up before I can say anything else.

 _Stupid Ass-hat._

 **xXx**

The ride over to his office is full of name-calling and cursing his very existence. I could make a sailor blush.

I step out of the elevator on the top floor and open the door to his suite. Neither of the Blondes are at the receptionist desk. Which is probably a good thing—they judge enough as it is. I would hate to see either one of their condescending smirks as they took in my wrinkled skirt and hair bun couture.

I open the door to his office without knocking and find him sitting on the edge of his desk, a thick bound book in his hands. He looks up when I enter and quietly sets the open book down on his desk.

"I trust you slept well." He crosses his arms, his face void of any emotions.

"Yes, I did." I feign ignorance, crossing my own arms as I walk over to one of his bookshelves. I refuse to look at him.

"The Luncheon went well, but I hope you didn't forget about the one on Thursday."

"I didn't" I did.

"Good." He says, his voice inexplicably closer.

I start when I feel his hands on my waist. He spins me around, pushing my back lightly into the bookcase.

"You seem to have a habit of pushing me into things." I say, feeling my heartbeat go into over time.

"What can I say?" He shrugs, leaning in closer until we're sharing breath. "When I see something I want…. I take it." His gaze flickers down to my lips and then back up.

A shiver runs up my spine. "And what about me?" I ask, breathless. "Do you want me?"

His smile is sensuous as he appraises me. He leans in to whisper, his breath caressing my ear. "I think you know the answer." I shudder, my body tightening and tingling in all the right places. I clinch and unclench my fist, trying, and failing to calm my breathing.

"And you?" He says, pushing his hips into me. I gasp when I feel him harden against me. "Do you want me?" He pivots his hips into mine again, causing that delicious tension to coil deep within me.

An involuntary moan slips through my lips. "Yes…" Traitorous, untrustworthy self…. but I can't deny it. I want him. _Oh god I want him._

And then his warm luxurious lips meet mine—crushing my lips into his. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against him and I wrap my hands around his neck, tugging none too gently on his hair.

He groans when I bite on his lower lip and slide my tongue inside. His tongue explores mine as his hands roam my body, caressing every part of me. My body shivers at each touch—waiting and wanting.

He lifts me suddenly and I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, never breaking our kiss as he carries me over to the plush chaise on the other side of the room.

Gently he lays me down and then moves until his body is hovering above me, his hands resting on either side of my face. He stares at me, his eyes roaming slowly over my figure. "You're beautiful."

My stomach fills with butterflies. I bite my lip and look away.

"You are." He leans down and presses his lips into the hollow of my neck, "You are so beautiful." He lavishes my neck with kisses; and nips, sucking my skin between his teeth.

I mumble incoherently and tug his hair, pulling him closer—wanting to feel his lips all over. My hands slide down his chest, to the hem of his shirt and slide underneath. So quiet, that I almost don't hear it, his breath catches as my fingernails lightly scratch up his muscular torso.

Swiftly he sits up, straddling my hips as he reaches up and removes his shirt, giving me a clear, uninterrupted view of his toned, nearly perfect chest. My gaze focuses on a large scar that slid diagonally from the top of his right shoulder, down to the middle of his chest. Puckered and pink, the scar stretched tight against his skin. However he'd injured himself, it had hurt, and hurt a lot by the looks of it.

He watches me, his eyes intent, as I lean up and plant a soft kiss against the puckered flesh. He groans softly, his hands tangling in my hair as I kiss down his warmed flesh.

His hands stroke my hair and then gently slide down my back until his hands reach the edge of my shirt. He tugs lightly on the fabric, pulling it up over my head and flings it on the floor next to his discarded shirt.

His gaze turns hungry as he leans down, pushing me back down into the chaise, as his lips graze the top of my left breast, just above my lacy bra.

I whimper as his lips drift lower, that wonderful tingling getting warmer. His tongue swirls around my navel and I can't help it as my back arches. His hands reach under my skirt, massaging the skin at the apex of my thighs.

My hips shift restlessly—wanting, needing to feel him lower. "Please."

He looks up, his eyes watching me as he pushes my skirt up to my hips. I bite my lip as his own drift down to my thighs, sucking the skin between his teeth.

" _Please_." I beg.

I feel his smile against my thigh as his fingers hook under the sides of my underwear and he slowly pulls them off.

And then…then I feel him. His warm, luxurious hands and mouth explore me—pulling me, pushing me, _tasting_ me. The pit in my stomach rises, crescendos to a peak as he fervently moves his fingers within me until I cry out, shouting his name as the wonderful warmth explodes from within me.

I work to slow my breathing and watch as he stands and quickly removes his trousers and boxers, giving me a view of his impressive length. He's on top of me before I can blink, gazing at me with those fathomless green eyes.

As I stare up at him, his eyes seem to loose their hungry look. His eyes soften, drop, and what seems to be guilt slowly takes its place.

"No." I whisper, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, tugging him back to me. "I want you. Please…"

He hesitates a moment longer, and then his lips crush mine. We kiss hungrily, a whirlwind of tongue and teeth. His hand moves down between us, guiding himself to my entrance.

He bites down hard on my lip and when I gasp, he buries himself in me with a hard quick thrust of his hips.

We both groan. He stills, letting me become accustomed to the full feeling of him inside me. I can only wait a few seconds before I drive my hips into his—eliciting a long deep-throated moan from him.

Time sped-up, or slowed-down—I couldn't tell you. All I could do was focus on the feeling, the warm delicious feelings he was drawing from me with each deep-seated thrust of his hips.

We move together, our bodies in perfect sync as we met each thrust of our hips, speeding up until I fracture, shuddering tightly around him. He follows a moment later, shouting my name as he finds his own release.

He stays on top of me for a moment longer, before rolling our bodies until I lay half on top of him. I work to control my breathing, relaxing into his chest as his hand gently strokes my hair, lulling me into a deep sleep.

* * *

 **.**

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter- my first NSFW ever published lol. I will post more often, but it's not a set schedule- so it'll be sporadic...but hey, at least I'm posting :D


	6. Rainy Conversations

Short chapter this time. A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

.

 _Everyone has their own ways of expression. I believe we all have a lot to say, but finding ways to say it is more than half the battle_. _– Criss Jami_

.

 **Chapter Six**

Rainy Conversations

.

The sound of thunder is what wakes me. The night sky lights up, illuminating the office in a quick burst of light. I stand, slowly disengaging myself from Edward's naked embrace.

I throw my discarded shirt back on and walk over to the large windows, crossing my arms as I gaze down at the rain sodden world below me. My mind is a jumble of scattered pieces. I don't know what to think, where to begin.

I watch as the droplets of rain slide down the windowpane, racing down the glass. I should feel bad, guilty, upset; anything other than I how I felt now—but I didn't. I didn't feel any of those things, at least not enough for those thoughts to consume me. It had been wonderful, and I had thrown myself, willingly, into that fire and let it devour me. I had been its willing victim.

The only thing I could possibly bring myself to feel guilty over- was the fact that I wanted it to happen again.

I turn, glancing at Edward's sleeping form as I search for my shoes. I didn't want to face the ensuing awkwardness I knew was bound to happen when he finally woke up.

I find my shoes against the bookshelf and quickly slip them on before tiptoeing to the door. I slip out, hurrying down the long hallway.

I'm a coward.

There I've said it.

I. Am. A. Coward.

The whole way down to my car I keep telling myself that I was running away because I didn't want it to be awkward, but as I reach the parking garage I know it's my nerves that are causing me to hightail it out of here.

I slide into the front seat of my truck and push the key into the ignition.

 _ **Crrrrkk**._

"Oh no," I cry. "Not now, not today!" I turn the key again.

 ** _Crrrrkk._**

"Great!" I bang my head on the steering wheel. "Fan-fucking-tastic," on all of the days for my car to die. "Why me?" I bang my head repeatedly against the wheel.

Through my incessant banging and random mumbling —which mostly consisted of me threatening to send my truck to the scrap yard if it didn't start this instance— I hear a loud tap against my window. I turn my head on the steering wheel and meet a pair of amused green eyes.

I blink, staring at the green eyes for one long uncomprehending moment, before letting out a rather embarrassing shrill scream.

He laughs. The bastard laughs at me as he pulls open the driver's side door. "Going home?"

"I was trying to." I sigh. "But my car thought this would be the perfect time to take a nap."

"The car shops wont open for several more hours. Why don't you come back up with me? We can hunt around the break room for something to eat."

"Can't you just drive me home?" I beg.

His eyes take on a dark look. "I don't drive in the rain."

I bite my lip. "Okay." His words so biting, so drained of emotion—I feel my stomach drop. I knew from his expression that whatever haunted him, whatever demons he'd yet to face, was somehow a mirror of my own pain and I couldn't, wouldn't push him.

He looses a breath, his façade slowly thawing. He'd expected me to argue, to demand to be taken home. But instead I follow him all the way to the top floor, completely aware of his lingering gaze.

We're silent as we search the dull, colorless break room for something to eat. My eyes scan the room; taking in the soft grey walls and scuffed up wooden tables. The room looks more like a waiting room for a morgue then a place for people to enjoy their lunch.

"I found some popcorn." Edward says, throwing a small bag into the microwave. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I hated the smell of popcorn. He notices my searching eyes. "People mostly come in here when they want to be alone. No one really eats in here."

"I can't imagine why," I mutter under my breath, slinking into one of the ridged wooden chairs. The room needed color. Yellow. Orange. _Something_. Just not grey…

"Bella—" He starts, but then cuts himself off. His brows knit together, his look contemplative and sad as he stares at me.

I shift in my seat, my face heating from his gaze.

"Bella—" he starts again and leans against the counter, the bands of muscle in arms flexing as he crosses them over his chest. "I….I—"

"How 'bout that Mariner's game?" I waggle my brows stupidly.

Confusion colors his face. "What?"

I sigh and give him a weak smile. "Whenever I had to talk about something difficult and I couldn't get it out, my dad would turn to me and say, _How 'bout that Mariner's game?_ Sometimes he'd say, _that pitch was as fast as a shooting star_ —then he'd let out a low whistle and change the subject and then I wouldn't have to talk about what was bothering me."

"So you never talked to your dad about the hard stuff?"

I shake my head. "No, he was always the first one I'd talk to. He knew I'd tell him eventually and if it was something really important I wouldn't wait. Whatever you want to say can wait until later, okay?"

I knew it was stupid to not discuss what we'd just done only hours before. We were going to have to talk about it, but I wasn't… quite ready yet. And he, it seemed, was struggling with it just as much, if not more so, than I was.

He looked away as if he was unwilling to meet my gaze, his expression still sad. We stayed silent for several moments, neither one of us wanting to be the first one to break this awkward silence, when the microwave goes off.

Turning his back to me, he pulls the popcorn out of the microwave and then slides into the chair across from me. He grabs a handful and offers some to me, but I shake my head.

"Do you not like popcorn?" He asks after a bite.

"No, I like popcorn. I just hate the smell of it." I scrunch my nose.

"How can you like something, but hate it? That doesn't make any sense." He laughs.

"I don't know," I shrug. "I just do. The same way I like baked potatoes, but hate mashed potatoes—or how I like peanuts but hate peanut butter."

"You hate peanut butter?" He looks at me with mock horror. "Who doesn't like peanut butter? Next you'll say you don't like fries."

"They're not my favorite." I say, trying to hide my grin.

"You don't like fries? That's…that's so un-American." He grins.

"Aren't they called _French_ fries?" I laugh.

He pauses for a minute and then purses his lips. "I guess you're right." He chuckles. "I concede."

I grab a handful of popcorn from the bag and give him a sly grin. "We'll discuss the terms of your surrender later."

He lifts a brow. "I didn't say I surrender, I just said that I acknowledge that you're right. I don't by the way—surrender, that is."

"It's only a matter of time." I say between bites. "Resistance is futile."

"We'll see about that." He winks.

My heart does an unexpected flip in my chest. Flirting. I was _flirting_ with him and I hadn't even realized it. Sure it wasn't the sexy/cute kind of flirting, but I'd been doing it nonetheless and what was worse was that I'd liked it—I had like it a lot.

Maybe…maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let myself enjoy in this aspect of the bargain. I knew it wasn't right, but I couldn't stop thinking about what we'd done.

And I had been so lonely, so terribly lonely, that I hadn't realized how far I'd let myself go without my father. I had Alice, but I only saw her on occasion, not when she was so busy with work and this was different. It had been years since I'd been intimate with anyone and I hadn't realized how much I craved the feeling, the need, the wanting—and the being wanted.

We spend the next several hours talking about trivial things and somehow manage to avoid talking about what we actually needed to discuss.

* * *

 **.**

Fun fact! The conversation they're having about the french fries, is based on an actual conversation I had with a cute waiter. This was the only difference:

 **Waiter:** Do you not like your fries?

 _Me_ : I'm not a huge fan of fries

 **Waiter:** You don't like fries? That's…that's so un-American

 _Me:_ "Aren't they called _French_ fries?"

 **Waiter:** (after a long pause)... they're FREEDOM FRIES.

One question I got asked:

 **What does NSFW mean?**

 _\- Not Safe For Work_. I picked it up from my Tumblr a while back, so I'm not sure if it's used on FF very much. But it basically means...yeah you don't want to get caught reading NSFW while you're actually at work :D


	7. In Public? For Shame!

Thank you all for the kind reviews and favorites/follows. It made my weekend. A/n at bottom, per usual. :)

Kinda NSFW

.

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

 _Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation — Mason Cooley_

 **.**

 **Chapter Seven**

In Public? For Shame!

 **.**

Thursday morning, I find myself humming, as I get ready for the luncheon. Logically I know I'm in over my head, but my heart bitch slaps my brain until it's nothing but a sniveling pulp, whimpering in the farthest recess of my mind. The future will catch up to me, sooner than I think, but right now all I can do is focus on the present.

A text from Edward lets me know his car is downstairs waiting. A stupid smile spreads across my face—at the exact same moment warning bells ring in my ears, but I ignore the bells and shove them far out of reach. I'll worry about them later.

His town car is not waiting outside the bookshop when I step outside, but a sleek silver Volvo— a shiny Volvo that just happens to have a green-eyed driver.

I slide into the passenger seat and meet Edward's smile. "I didn't realize you knew how to drive."

"I don't. I'm just learning." He chuckles. "It's just like bumper cars, right?"

My smile widens. "Just like bumper cars."

"I thought so." He pulls the car out onto the road and drives smoothly through the traffic. "You look lovely, by the way."

My cheeks flush and I look down, smoothing the skirt of my white dress. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

He chuckles. "I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

The smile I give him is part smirk, part grimace. "Yeah, well…don't get used to it."

"Any word on your car yet?" He asks, speeding through a yellow light.

"Not yet." I sigh.

After the rain had finally let up yesterday morning, I had called a tow truck and had my car taken to Jake's—who just so happens to also be a full-fledged mechanic. Edward had driven me home and promised to pick me up for the luncheon. I think he was doing it partially to be nice, but mainly to avoid another repeat of Tuesday's missed luncheon disaster.

"Have you heard from your mechanic friend?" He asks, seamlessly parallel parking the car across the street from a swanky looking restaurant.

"Not yet, but he promised to call as soon as he figured out what was wrong with my truck." I follow him out of the car and he places his hand on my lower back as we cross the street to the upscale restaurant.

I don't think I've ever been in somewhere this upscale, let alone eaten in a place like this before. The deep mahogany floors and rich earth tone upholstery cause my hands to sweat. The cream tablecloths alone could probably pay to have my car fixed and with a little extra to spare.

The dining room is large and open, full of strangers in suits and brand-named dresses. We follow the hostess to a round table at the back of the room where a large fireplace stands out, basking the room in soft heat.

We're the last to arrive, but they all stand and shake Edward's hand enthusiastically.

"It's good to see you again Cullen." A tall, dark-skinned man beams, patting Edward on the back. "James and I were just reminiscing about the last time we all got together to discuss the merger." He points to his paler, shorter companion on his right.

"It has been a while." Edward agrees, sliding his hand around my waist. "This is Bella, by the way. This is Laurent and James," he points to them. "And this is Victoria." He says and for the first time I notice a thin tan woman with barely tamed red hair. She smiles, but it feels forced.

James smiles, sliding his hand through his dark blond locks and then reaches across the table to shake both our hands. His grip lingers a little longer on my hand then I'd like. Edward's hand tightens around my waist, but he smiles at the small group and pulls out a chair for me in the corner, so it's only the two of us sitting next to each other.

"I'm glad you decided to discuss the merger here again." Edward says, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. "I really enjoyed the food here."

"Yes, I agree." Laurent nods. "I admit I chose this restaurant just so I could have their salmon again."

"Have you eaten here before, Bella?" James asks, his blue eyes unsettling.

"No, I can't say I've had the pleasure." I say, unconsciously scooting my chair closer to Edward. I reach forward to grab a roll off the center of the table.

"The bread is quite… _delectable."_ He says as I take a small bite of the bread.

I don't like him, I decide. Call it intuition or my spidey-senses tingling, but there is just something about him that just sets me on edge—something that makes me uncomfortable.

Whether or not he felt my discomfort, I feel Edward's hand resting gently on my knee. His touch instantly soothes whatever uneasiness I feel and I focus on the slow comforting patterns he draws onto my skin with his fingers.

I take another bite of the bread, ignoring James' curious gaze.

"It doesn't matter how good the bread is, it's full of carbs and soon one piece of bread leads to three and then three leads to five and then before you know it, you've gained about thirty pounds." Victoria remarks, her face pinched into a tight scowl.

 _I don't think I like her very much either…_ I grab another piece of bread, partially because they are pretty delicious, but mostly just to spite her a little.

She wrinkles her nose, but doesn't say anything else. The conversation slowly turns to more business-related matters. I sit quietly in my seat, eating and listening and trying hard not to feel like I'm prying into their serious talks.

I take a sip of my water and almost choke on it when I feel Edward's hand edge up to the hem of my skirt.

I shoot him an incredulous look and quickly scan the faces of the others. I relax slightly when I realize they aren't paying me any mind; they're all engrossed in the discussion.

His hand moves higher under my skirt, resting on my inner thigh. I subtly try to shift my legs, squirming under his hot palm.

 _Gahh, this is so inappropriate_ , I think. I should shove his hand away. I shouldn't be getting hot and bothered or shifting my hips towards his large hand that keeps moving closer to where I desperately want him.

I have to stifle my gasp when I feel his hand reach the fabric of my underwear. I shift in my seat, opening my legs wider under the table. His fingers easily push aside the flimsy fabric and stroke down the length of me.

My hand tightens into a fist on the table and I will myself to remain as quiet and as still as possible as his fingers continue to explore me.

Up and down, up and down his fingers leisurely caress me, pulling and pinching me between his slick fingers—teasing me with his deft hands. His thumb moves higher, pressing roughly onto the sensitive flesh and I fight hard to bite back the groan that quickly makes its way to my throat.

He presses harder, his thumb rubbing in quick circles and then I can't help the small gasp I give when I feel his finger slide into me.

Three sets of eyes turn to me and I feel my face flush scarlet.

"Are you alright, Bella?" Laurent asks, his eyes holding curious concern.

"Yes…" I start to respond, but let out another small gasp as Edward's finger continues to move within me. _Damn him and his skilled fingers._ "Yes, I'm fine. I just remembered I forgot to check on my car—it's in the shop. Excuse me for one moment." I lie, shove Edward's hand away, and grab my phone off the table before fleeing to the restroom.

I pace the bathroom with my hands over my face. _Oh, what a heathen I've become…_ I groan into my hands. "I'm so stupid."

I can't believe I'd done that. I can't believe I let him do that to me—and right in front of his associates. In a public place no less! _Why?_ Why oh why had I let his delicious fingers play me like some kind of instrument. And why, even now, could I think of nothing else?

My hands are still covering my face when I hear the door open and I'm half tempted to keep them over my face and let this stranger think that I'm certifiably insane, but I quickly remove my hands when I hear the unmistakable sound of the lock.

My eyes meet luminous jade ones. My breath catches and I take an involuntary step backwards.

He smirks at me, his eyes hooded as he stalks towards me.

I shuffle backwards until my lower back hits the countertop. I struggle to keep my breathing even as my heart thunders in my chest. His arms trap me, resting on either side of the counter.

He leans forward, his body pressing against mine as he bends down to whisper in my ear. "I told them I was checking on you—that I wanted to make sure you were okay." He nuzzles my neck, his cool breath sending goose bumps across my flesh.

I let out a breath and try to keep my voice even. "I think you know exactly how I'm doing."

"Hhmm," he breathes, placing feather light kisses against my neck and jaw. "I don't know, you seemed a little quiet to me—not to mention flushed."

"I wonder who's fault that is," I hum, tilting my neck towards his lips.

His lips move to the outer edge of my mouth, not quite touching. "I have absolutely no idea."

"None?" I whisper.

"None."

And then the time for talking is over.

Kissing him was dangerous, because the more I kissed him; the more I _wanted_ to keep kissing him. I was playing a dangerous game—a game I knew I shouldn't play and a game I knew I would lose. For games of the heart were never easy.

But I couldn't help it as I placed my hands around his neck and pulled him closer to me, crushing my lips against his.

He let out a low groan. His hands roamed across my back, gripping my hips, tangling in my hair and continued moving around my body as if he couldn't help but to keep touching me.

My hands played with his hair, enjoying the smooth silken texture. My lips part when I feel his tongue pushing against my lower lip and I gladly meet his deepening kisses.

His hips push against mine; driving me further against the counter as his lips move back down towards my neck. His lips have just barely skimmed my collarbone when there's a loud rap on the door.

I let out a small squeak and lightly push him away. "Just a minute!" I say, breathless.

I check my reflection in the mirror, frowning at my swollen lips as I fix my hair and straighten my dress. I turn my gaze on him, rolling my eyes at his cheeky expression. "Really Edward? A bathroom?"

He only shrugs and looks away, unable to hide his grin. "We better go before whoever's at the door decides to come back with reinforcements." He grabs my hand and pulls me to the locked door.

As if he's unable to help it, he bends down and plants a quick kiss on my lips before unlocking the door. He cracks the door open and peeks out, ushering me forward when the coast is clear.

The group – save Victoria – are quick to check on my health when we return, much to my embarrassment. The conversation moves back to business and thankfully Edward keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the meal.

"That wasn't too bad," Edward says after we say our goodbyes and leave the restaurant. "It was a little longer than I thought it would be, but otherwise a good meeting."

I shrug my seatbelt on, turning to look at him as he pulls the car out onto the road. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

I bite my lip. "Why did you bring me?"

"Because I enjoy your company." He responds vaguely.

I scowl. "I'm serious, Edward. I had no clue what you guys were discussing. I had no reason to be at that luncheon."

He glances at me briefly, before turning his eyes back to the road. "There are a few reasons why I brought you. For starters, I really do enjoy your company."

I bitch-slap the part of my brain that likes hearing that more then _she_ should.

"Second, I have a rep in my office—as well as among my many business investors—of not exactly being the most sociable person. I don't let my hair down, so to speak. I wanted to show them that I'm not uptight as they seem to think I am." He spares another quick glance at me, and smiles. "And you're easy to talk to. I figured if you're around me at these events, then maybe I'd be more willing to put myself out there and the investors wouldn't think I was antisocial."

"Is that why you wanted me to agree to that contract?"

"It was a small part of the reason; a very small part. I think you know the main reason behind the contract."

I flush slightly. "Yes, I do believe you gave me a demonstration back at the restaurant." I look down, twisting my hands in my lap. "Are there any… other reasons behind that contract?"

I look at him from the corner of my eye and notice his drawn expression. "Any other motives I have… are not ones that I wish to discuss right now."

I frown, my good mood quickly deteriorating. "If I have to follow this stupid contract, then it's only fair I know all the reasons behind it. It's not fair to discuss things when it's convenient for you."

"Well life isn't exactly fair." His grip on the steering wheel tightens as we reach my street. "You signed a contract which benefits me—not you, _me_. Which means I can tell you as much or as little as I want to. If you have a problem with that, than too bad, because you already signed that _stupid_ contract."

"You egotistic, selfish, chauvinistic pig!" I shout, unable to help myself as my own anger boils over . "You are such a bastard. God forbid you throw me a fucking bone. You took advantage of me. I was in a bad situation and you knew it. You didn't offer me the contract to help me— you did it to fulfill your own disgusting desires."

I practically throw myself out of the car when he stops in front of my bookstore. He opens his mouth to speak—probably to defend his chauvinistic ways, but I cut him off as I shove the store doors open.

"Go to hell." I twist the lock back into place and shove the blinds down in front of his stupid face.

 _What a fucked up day._

* * *

 **.**

The name of this story when I was writing it, was just titled "Clack," because that was the first word in the story. And to be honest, I've called it Clack for over two years, and I've kind of grown a little attached to that name. Not that I don't love the title my story has now (although it does remind me of something a Hallmark movie might name itself.)

Also I know my previous chapters have mistakes and I will get to them eventually, but thank you guys for pointing them out to me :)

Also question... Do you guys liked to be informed if there are NSFW scenes in a chapter? I never know if someone might not be comfortable reading them or if maybe they don't like reading them in the presence of others. I can keep letting you guys know, or I can just skip the warning. Either way works :)


	8. What is it about Cars?

A/N at bottom, per usual. (Bet you didn't know I was gonna say that again for the millionth time)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

.

 _He who angers you conquers you — Elizabeth Kenny_

.

 **Chapter Eight**

What is it about Cars?

.

"Are you done yet?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"No"

…

"How about now?"

"Bella, I swear to God, if you ask me one more time, I'm going to dismantle this engine and throw it into the river." Jake grumbles, his body bent over my old Chevy.

Jake's workshop, aka his giant garage attached to his small wood cabin, sat on the edge of town with his own private lake. I lay sprawled on his old plaid couch in the corner of the shop.

"Hey, I'm just asking! You're going on what, hour four?"

"Yeah, well if your car wasn't such a pile of crap, I'm sure I would have fixed it by now." His voice was muffled under the hood.

"Hey now, don't knock my car. She's a classic."

"Yeah, a classic piece of crap. Let me also remind you that I'm doing this free of charge."

"And let me remind you that I gave you two weeks off work, half of which you're still being paid for."

"Eh, details."

…

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you done now?"

One second, I'm lying on his sofa minding my own business and then in the next second, I'm catching a mouthful of lint and dust.

I sit up spluttering, coughing, and cursing Jake. "Seriously? _Seriously?_ You threw a used air filter at me?"

"Just be thankful I didn't throw the engine at you. Those fuckers hurt when you drop them."

"Those big heavy metal parts that make the car work? I'm _so_ shocked." I mutter sarcastically. "Thanks for doing this though. I really appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I get to spend time with you. We never see each other anymore. Are you still friends with that little pixie? I haven't seen her in a while either."

"Yeah she's still around." I smile. "She's just busy with work. Her job is trying to finish the Summer Collection."

"The Summer Collection? It's November."

"Jake, you really know nothing about fashion. Do you know how long it takes to take sketches and turn them into outfits? If anything, they're way behind."

"Speaking of fashion," Jake says, popping his head out from under my car. "What's up with you lately? For starters you're dressing hella nice lately—I mean, not that you don't always look nice—but, um, you're kinda dressing above your means." He scratches his chin; leaving black oil smudges on his copper skin. "And you're always running off to places and not coming back for hours."

I cross my legs and scratch my knee lightly. "You're one of my best friends—well one of my only friends, really, but that's not really any of your business." I feel bad not being more honest with him, but this was a secret I wasn't going to tell anyone.

"I know, I'm sorry." He frowns and walks over to his workbench, shuffling through a pile of tools on the counter. "But you've been different since your dad died and it's hard not seeing the old Bella. That's why I'm commenting on the change, because you seem a little happier and a little like the old Bella again. I just want to make sure that you're okay."

I give him a small, sad smile. "Thank you, Jake. I didn't mean to snap at you."

He shrugs. "You didn't." There's a brief, awkward pause and then, "But really, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I say and then sigh out loud when his frown doesn't dissipate. "Really, I am fine." I don't know if he believes me, but he goes back to fixing my car.

I sit in comfortable silence for a while, just listening to the sound of metal on metal as he works diligently on my truck. Jake and I had been friends since we were little. Our dads had been best friends and subjected us to many fishing trips. While neither of us was into fishing, we had quickly become friends. If our dads weren't fishing, they were watching sports and if they weren't watching sports they were fixing cars or doing something just as manly as you'd expect.

Jake's dad had died five years previous, just two weeks after his nineteenth birthday. That was how he'd been left with a fully paid-off lake front cabin. If anyone could understand what I was going through, then it would be him.

And maybe I should talk to him about my depression, or my loneliness, or how I missed my dad so much that sometimes it felt like I was physically being hurt—but I wasn't quite ready to talk about my dad just yet. Maybe later. Maybe after… after this thing, this _contract_ , with Edward ended.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I let out a huff of irritation. _Speak of the Devil…_

 _ **I need to talk to you. Come to my office. — E**_

I frown. What could he possibly have to talk about?

 _Can't. — B_

I only have to wait a few seconds before he responds.

 _ **Contract… — E**_

My face flushed with realization. He doesn't want to talk at all. Not by a long shot.

 _Can't. — B_

Let him ponder on that. And maybe I am being purposely vague, but I wasn't about to pretend to be nice after the other day. He deserved my curt responses and then some.

 _ **Why not? — E**_

God he was relentless.

 _Because I'm waiting for my car to be fixed… — B_

 _ **Text me the address. I'll pick you up. — E**_

Jesus. He really must need his fix. I don't even have time to respond before he sends another one.

 _ **Address? — E**_

Impatient bastard.

I text him the address and then unceremoniously throw myself back onto the sofa cushions. "Jake, one of my… _friends_ is going to come by and pick me up." I say, flinging my arm over my face. "They need my help with… something." I almost snort. He needed my help with _something_ that was for sure.

"Oh good." Jake says. "I've been wanting to torture that pixie some more."

I grimace. "It's not Alice."

There's a small pause. "Holy shit. Do you mean to tell me that you, Bella Swan, actually have a new friend?" He sticks his head out from under the hood.

I stick my tongue out at him. "Despite your misconceptions, Jacob, I can actually have more than two friends."

He grins and wipes his oil-covered hands onto his dark jeans. "Never thought I'd see the day. My little Bella, all grown up."

"Oh go to hell." Sitting up, I throw a pillow cushion at him and miss by about half a foot.

"Well I can see your aim hasn't improved in about twelve years." He throws the pillow back at me, hitting me square in the chest.

"Let me just remind you, that you were the one that hit me in the face with a basketball twelve years ago. I had to be taken to the hospital because you broke my nose!"

He laughs, dodging another pillow toss. "It was an accident! I got distracted when you started fixing your bra!"

"I was thirteen, you pervert!" I laugh. "Besides I was just pulling the strap back into place."

"And I was twelve! That was the first time I'd ever even seen part of a bra before."

"Yeah and it's probably the only bra you've ever even since then." I say.

"Hey, I've seen my fair share of bras, thank you very much."

"Pictures in dirty magazines don't count." I laugh at his fake scowl.

"Just watch it Swan. I've probably had more action this week then you've had in your entire life."

"Jake, that is absolutely disgusting. There are some things that are better left unsaid and if you're unsure on what qualifies as too much—then don't even say it."

He chuckles, all ready to keep disgusting me with this conversation, when a sleek silver Volvo pulls into the driveway. "That's a nice car." He whistles.

I hop up, pulling him into a quick embrace. "Thanks for fixing my car. I'll see you later." I give him a peck on the cheek and then make my way to the silver Volvo in question.

"Bella." Edward greets me when I slide into the passenger seat.

I don't deign a response and only nod my head infinitesimally, keeping my head forward.

He sighs, pulling the car out of the driveway. "I'm sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean them."

I huff a laugh. "Yes you did. You're just sorry you said them out loud." I shake my head, watching the greenery go by. "Besides it's not like anything you said wasn't the truth." _It was a harsh reality that I'd willingly subjected myself to._

"I'm sorry." He says again, as if he's unsure of what else to say.

We sit in uncomfortable silence for a while as he drives down the winding roads. With him unsure of what to say and me unwilling to speak, the ride is tense and long.

"Where are we going?" I ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

He doesn't answer right away, and I start to wonder if he heard me, when he speaks. "I'm not really sure. I was going to go back to my office, but then once I picked you up, I didn't want to go back there."

"So you've just been driving, with no clue where to go?"

He frowns. "For the most part."

"What about the text message you sent me. The one that just said, _contract_? I thought you wanted to… well— you know…" I trail off, feeling my face flush.

"I did." He turns onto a disserted road and pulls the car over onto the shoulder. Placing the car in park, he rubs his face with his hands. "I was just having a horrible day. I was trying to help this family, who had been denied a loan by my company's partners, but they wouldn't budge and then they basically threatened me if I helped the family. I had to tell the family that I couldn't provide them a loan that would help feed their family."

He takes a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever seen a grown man cry before. God, Bella, it was awful. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let them leave like that—so I tried to offer them all the money I had in my wallet. I had to give them something. But the father just slapped the money out of my hand when I offered it to him and yelled at me, calling me all sorts of things. Then he shoved me and just walked out with his family."

I place my hand on his shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension, but I don't think he even realizes I'd touched him. "I just sat in my office. I had no idea what to do and then I started thinking about what I'd said to you the other day and then I felt even worse and then I thought about the last time you'd been in my office and how that had made me feel. And I just wanted to feel—feel something other than misery and the hopelessness, but then I got to your friend's house and I saw how upset you were with me still and I couldn't bring myself to go through with it."

"Why do you own a company like that?" I ask, still keeping my hand on his shoulder.

He places his hand over mine on his shoulder. "It's a really long story, but I'll tell you later. I just…" He leans his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes. "I just can't talk about it anymore right now."

I don't even think about it. "Then don't talk anymore." I whisper, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Opening his eyes, he stares at me, as if trying to see if he heard right.

Keeping my gaze locked on his, I lean over the console and kiss his cheek.

He leans back, away from my touch. "You don't have to—,"

I unlock my seatbelt, sliding over to the edge of my seat and tug on his shoulders until he's only a few inches away from me. "Don't talk, just feel."

And then we're kissing, our lips moving together in slow exploration. He's quick to remove my shirt and in turn I cross the console until I'm straddling his lap and unbutton his shirt.

I stare at the toned flesh beneath me and then lean forward and kiss up his chest as I work on getting his belt loose. He groans, leaning his head back as I caress the skin on his collarbone, sucking the skin between my teeth.

He lifts his hips up, helping me to pull his pants and boxers down until I free his considerable length. I run my hands lightly over the sensitive flesh, earning another groan as his hands start tugging at my own jeans.

I lift up, holding myself up by his shoulders as he tugs my pants and underwear off of me. Only in my bra, I hover over him, my body aching and needing as he positions himself below me.

He stares at our bodies as I slowly lower myself and take him into me. We both moan loudly at the full feeling. I'm still for several moments, trying to get used to this new, fuller feeling.

Lifting up slightly, I whimper, and his gaze shoots up to mine, watching as I pull myself up and then slowly lower myself back onto him. He groans, his hands moving down to the curve of my buttocks, as he lifts me and pushes me back onto him.

Deeper, it feels so much deeper this way. He fills me to the brim and then lifts up and lowers me over and over again, until all I can think of is him. His thrusts get faster— I move faster, twisting my hips as I reach the brink.

And then I'm falling. Falling so far off the edge that I can barely hold on to him, barely remember to keep moving my hips as I clench tightly around him, releasing in a magnificent wave of pleasure.

I lean my head against his shoulder, breathing hard as his hips undulate three more times before he stills, releasing into me with a shudder.

We sit there in silence, wrapped into each other's embrace as we work to slow our breathing. His hand strokes my hair softly and I nuzzle my head into his shoulder. "Thank you," he says.

"For what?" I breathe against his skin.

"For distracting me."

* * *

 **.**

Thanks again for reading, and for all the lovely reviews :)

I just wanted to clarify the rule that Bella set for herself and then repeatedly keeps breaking. (Because I've been asked about this a few time lol). I'm sorry it's so confusing! But I promise you all, that there is a reason this rule/limit about kissing is being broken. It will be addressed later in the story, and as other writers know- characters don't always listen to themselves like they should. I'm happy to answer any other questions you guys might have, and thank you again for sticking with my story on this crazy adventure it's on.


	9. The Treble with Memories

No A/N this time. (Shocking, I know).

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

.

" _The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared."_ _―_ _Lois Lowry_ _,_ _The Giver_

 **.**

 **Chapter Nine**

The Treble with Memories

.

When people tell you to trust your instincts, the answer should be simple. Follow them and then reap the benefits.

But what they don't tell you, is that your instincts can lie to you—lie to you like a badass mofo on a three-day straight Netflix binge when your brain is telling you that it's okay to wait one more day before a shower—that no one will notice the smell. (Not that I've done this).

My instincts, as it turns out, are both blind and dysfunctional. _Can I get a refund?_ I glare down at the queen of hearts, willing it to burst into flames or magically throw itself out of my hands. Instead it stares up at me, her small red face a mask of cool indifference… _what a royal bitch._

I glower at Edward's triumphant look. "When you asked me to play cards with you… I didn't exactly think you'd pick Old Maid."

He gives me a coy smile and shrugs his shoulders. "Poker, Blackjack, Old-Maid— what's the difference? They're all card games."

"Sure," I nod. "Except two of those you play in a casino and the other you play with a five-year-old. And seeing as we're not in a casino…."

"Ha-ha, point taken" He stands from the stiff leather chair in the lobby of his building and I feel my face flush slightly when he stretches his hands above his head, revealing a tiny sliver of skin. Which is ridiculous considering the fact that I've seen him naked and then had sex with him—twice…not that I'm counting.

"How long until they get here?" I ask, pointedly keeping my gaze on the large windows. He looked extremely handsome in his black tuxedo and I have to look away to keep from ogling the way the fabric clings to his lean, muscular frame. It fit him a little too well and somehow made the green in his eyes stand out just a little more; and when he'd had smiled at me just now—it was a little bit magical.

"Any minute." He walks over to where I stand and gazes out the window, unconsciously brushing his right shoulder against my bare one. My body stiffens, not in a bad way, but it was the only way I could control the shiver I could feel winding its way through my body. "She's always late."

I take a step back from the window and pull my blue shawl up over my shoulders. Alice had helped me pick out the dress—a concoction of dark blue, almost sheer, fabric with a golden lining underneath it. It hung off the shoulders and revealed the tiniest sliver of my chest in its sweetheart neckline. The dress was the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn; when Alice had finished curling the hair that now hung in a waterfall of twists down my left shoulder—I had never felt so lovely in my entire life.

I had been excited on the way to Edward's office, my nerves only catching up to me as he'd pulled open the doors to let me inside.

My body had frozen, unable to move, unable to even blink, as his eyes had slid over me in a torturously slow gaze that had made my body feel as if it was burning from the inside out. His eyes had lingered on my face for almost as long when he'd finally looked up and I'd been unable to hold back the small gasp that had broken from my raspberry colored lips as I stared into his dark, deep jaded eyes.

Hunger. That was the only way to describe the way he'd looked at me, at the way he'd been staring at me since the moment I had arrived.

Danger, my mind had warned me. Danger, my mind was still telling me in the far recess of my mind. It wasn't Danger in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense—in the way I knew, deep down, that whatever we had would not end well.

Every time he looked at me, I'd feel this giddy sense of happiness, which I had to quickly wrangle down. I was his employee, of sorts, and my brain no matter how many times I tried telling it, was having a hard time sorting out his true feelings—feelings that I couldn't even begin to discern.

"She's here." Edward says, pulling me out of my troublesome thoughts. He smiles down at me, a soft smile that once again sends the butterflies fluttering. He holds out his arm out, and I wrap my hand around it as we walk out towards the small, sleek black limousine that waits at the bottom of the stone steps.

"You look lovely," Rosalie says by way of greeting when we're both sitting comfortably inside the limo.

"Thank you," I smile and after taking in her fitted scarlet gown, return the sentiment. "Where's your husband?" I add after a quick glance around.

"Emmett is not a huge fan of Opera," Edward answers, gently placing his hand on my knee. "He's more into sports and such."

"You can be a fan of Opera and sports. I for one love a good football game, but I also enjoy listening to Faust." I joke.

"That's certainly true," Rosalie grins, "I love my Husband, but God Bless him, he was born with more Braun than anything else. He can hardly sit still enough to watch football. There's no way he'd be able to make it through an entire opera."

"It about killed him to sit through my college graduation." Edward laughs and gives my knee a soft squeeze. "I could see him practically bouncing in his seat when I went up to get my diploma."

"I think that had more to do with him yelling your name." Rosalie says. She glances down, her eyes narrowing in on his hand on my knee before she stares out the window with a distracted look.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Somehow, she knew something wasn't right about our… _relationship._ I can only wonder how she could possibly know that we're not really together.

Surely… surely Edward hadn't told her? _Of course not,_ I reason. Why would he possibly discuss such a topic with his sister-in-law? But somehow, she'd figured out some part about it and I could only wonder how long it would take her to voice her concerns.

The rest of the ride is filled with idle chatter until we reach the theatre—which is a giant structure of glass and steel. Several other limousines are scattered around the building as beautifully dressed figures make their way towards the building.

Edward helps us out and offers us both an arm as we make our way inside. Much like outside, the inside is sleek and modern, with large steel beams that reach floor to ceiling, directing your gaze to the glass roof that shows an uninterrupted view of the starry night sky.

"If we get the chance, I'll take you up to the observatory deck—the view is even more spectacular on the roof." Edward whispers in my ear.

"I'd like that." I say, my cheeks flushing slightly as I give him a small smile.

We have just reached the foot of the stairs when someone calls out his name. We turn and see a couple making their way towards us.

"Edward! I can't believe it's you!" A high voice says just as Rosalie and I step back, out of the line of fire, as a tall blonde wraps her arms around him.

"It's good to see you, Tanya." Edward grins, releasing her from their embrace. "It's been two years at least."

"Not since Daddy's birthday party," Tanya says, wrapping her hands around his left arm. "It's funny that we ran into you, Felix and I were just talking about you." She motions to the handsome redheaded man in front of us.

As they shake hands, Felix's blue eyes land on Rosalie and me. "Who are your friends, Ed?"

Edward frowns and I'm not sure if it's at the nickname or something else, but he turns and introduces us. "This is my sister-in-law, Rosalie and our friend Bella."

Rosalie's eyes shoot to Edward's in surprise and some other emotion that I can't quite place. Not quite anger, but something akin to disdain.

We exchange pleasantries with both of them. I flush when Felix kisses the back of my hand. Edward's face darkens for a split second before Tanya pulls him back into conversation.

It's my turn to glower when I learn that we'll be sharing a box with them. Of course, this puts Tanya over the moon and she's practically dragging him up the stairs before we can say anything.

"I guess we should follow them," Felix smiles and offers us both an arm.

Rosalie takes a step back, an oddly concerned look on her face. "You two go ahead, I forgot I have a call to make." She scurries away before I can ask her what's wrong.

"Shall we?" Felix winks, holding his arm out again.

Pushing my concern for Rosalie aside, I smile at him and take his arm. "We shall."

"So how do you and your date know Edward?" I say as we slowly ascend the steps. I take great care to avoid looking at them, lest I start frowning again.

"Tanya— _my sister_ , and I," he says with a quick grin that makes my cheeks redden. "We've known him since college. The two of us were roommates and Edward and my sister dated for a while."

My heart skips an unpleasant beat. They did seem rather comfortable with each other... I keep my smile plastered on my face, if only to keep the frown from leaking out.

"They broke up again before graduation," Felix continues. "And then we lost touch with him after we graduated. How about you, how do you two know each other?"

We reach the second level and slowly make our way down the long ornate hallway.

"We met in my bookshop a few month ago," I say, and I feel more uncomfortable with how easy the lie slips off my tongue than with the actual lie itself.

"You own a bookstore?" he asks with evident curiosity. "I don't see those very often anymore, where's your store located?"

"On 47th street, right at the edge of town."

"I'll have to check it out some time," he says with a sly smile. "Did you major in business?"

"You'd think I would of." I laugh. "But no, I majored in English with a double minor in History and French. Which you can tell I've put to great use."

He chuckles. "You majored in what you loved, I can hardly fault you there. I think it's great that you were able to do that. Unfortunately, my family pushed me towards my major so I'd be able to run the family business."

"And what business might that be?"

"It's called Denali. We buy small start-up companies and fix them up and then resale them after we've improved their business."

We reach the box before I can respond.

There are six, red plush chairs inside which overlook the center of a large curtained stage. I let go of Felix's arm and walk over to the wooden railing, looking at the rows of filled out chairs below.

Felix joins me a moment later and as we continue to talk I glance over his shoulder and meet Edward's gaze. We both smile and then before we can do much else the overture starts.

Felix sits in the seat next to Edward and I slide into the seat behind him, just as Rosalie returns.

"Are you all right?" I whisper as the theatre lights dim.

She relaxes into the chair and ignoring my concern asks, "Are _you_ okay?"

"What?" I start, my brows rising.

"I don't want to pry," she whispers, glancing at the back of Edward's head. "But I know something strange is going on between the two of you and I want to make sure that you're okay."

"Of course I am," I say, my heart ratcheting in my chest. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You two act like you're dating, but then sometimes I swear I can see you holding back—like you don't know if you want his attention and then just now, he called you a friend when we both know you came here as his date."

 _I could tell her,_ I think. I could tell her everything that's going on and then I'd be free of him—but at the cost of my store. And then I wonder what affect this might have on Edward. On what problems could arise from telling someone. And the more I think about telling her, the more I realize that I don't want to— and the reason…. I'm not quite sure I'm ready to admit the reason to myself just yet.

"I appreciate your concern," I say, "I really do, but I promise you we're fine. We're still trying to figure out what we are."

She doesn't respond, but I can still see the worry etched into her face. I grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, before turning my attention to the Opera below.

xXx

Growing up, my father and I were too poor to afford trips to the theatre, but that didn't stop us from renting copies of different musicals and operas from our local library.

When I was twelve, we once spent an entire weekend watching operas like Carmen, The Marriage of Figaro, and Don Giovanni. Of course, after the weekend was over, I was convinced I was born to be an opera singer.

My dad had only laughed and let me delude myself into thinking I could actually hit the high notes. It wasn't until I was fifteen that I'd overheard my dad telling a customer that he wasn't a fan of opera.

I was upset at first, but then I realized he'd been the one who had constantly found operas for us to watch—he was the one who spent countless hours doing something he didn't like, but he'd done it for me. He had done it because he knew how much I'd enjoyed watching them and most importantly, he had done it to spend time with me.

So I could pretend it was the Opera that was making me tear up. Or the actors, or perhaps the lines themselves even though I couldn't understand a lick of Italian, but deep down I knew the reason.

And I knew I had to get out of here.

I glance at Rosalie from the corner of my eye, making sure her attention is on the stage, before whispering an excuse and slipping out of our box.

My heels click against the smooth granite floor as I wander up and down the long hallway, my thoughts indecisive on whether to leave or wait for them, when I notice the stairs leading to the observatory deck. I take the steps two at a time—desperate for the fresh air.

The wind is immediately upon me when I push open the glass door and stumble onto the roof. It whips my hair around and stings my cheeks as I lean against the railing.

The city is below me, lit up in a beautiful display of lights and sounds that I can't seem to completely take in and enjoy. My eyes fixate on one especially bright display of lights as I work to slow my breathing.

One deep breath in. One deep breath out.

I repeat this mantra several times until I'm sure I have a better grasp on my emotions.

 _I'll wait for them_ , I decide, sure that I can handle it now. _Maybe I'll come back here when I—_

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice the figure at first, only when I feel the warm, scratchy material of the tuxedo jacket slip over my shoulders do I startle out of my thoughts.

"Thank you," I say quietly, looking down at my hands on the railing.

"Are you all right?" His voice slides through my bones and I shiver from something other than the cold this time.

I let out a deep breath. "Yes, I just needed a moment."

"Do you want to go home?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just…it just reminded me of my father, that's all."

"I'm sorry," he says, "I'm sorry I made you come."

I glance up at him finally, taking in his remorseful expression. His dark eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before he looks away. I take his hand in both of mine and give it a gentle squeeze. "Don't be," I say. "I've always wanted to go to the theatre and even though being here makes me remember my father—they're not sad memories, they just…make me sad."

He looks at me then, his eyes searching mine carefully. "I'm sorry."

I give him a small smile. "You've said that already."

His attempt at a smile is subpar. "It doesn't make it any less true. I understand if you want to go home. I—I won't make you stay."

"I know," I say softly. I don't even think about it as I place my head against his shoulder. I watch his hands hover for a moment before they lightly wrap around me, holding me against him as we stare out at the starry night sky.

We stand together, watching the city below us, for an immeasurable amount of time. And slowly I feel myself accepting the facts that for one, my father would want me to move on—that he would want me to be happy and not focus on the things that I couldn't change. And two: that no matter how hard I try to deny it, I am completely and utterly infatuated with Edward Cullen.

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Thank you for reading and for the lovely reviews. :D


	10. A Little Bit of Everything

A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 _._

" _That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown."— Christopher Marlowe_

 **.**

 **Chapter Ten**

A Little Bit of Everything

 **.**

The funny thing with realizing that you truly like someone, is how much more aware you become of them. On how much more they make you feel and how every time they talk to you—how even when they just smile at you, it sends your heart stuttering.

No one ever said the heart was smart when it came to wanting what the heart wants: mine being no exception. While I may not speak for everyone out there when it comes to falling for someone, I can say that for me personally, it feels like offering the best parts of yourself on a silver platter and then just waiting to see if they like it. Worst-case scenario they slap the shit out of the platter and leave the contents scattered on the floor for the animals to clean up.

Am I over exaggerating? _Probably_ …

But that was how I felt when we'd walked back from the observatory deck and it was all I could think about as we waited in the lobby for the show to finish.

He'd made me laugh, made me forget for a while. Although it did nothing to help with the way my stomach felt as if were about to take flight every time he smiled at me.

I clung to Edward's arm when they finally appeared at the end; propriety was the least of my concerns. Rosalie's expression had been calculating, yet she'd seemed almost relieved to see us holding hands. Felix, oddly enough, had a calculating expression as well. And perhaps jealously, I'd even smiled a little on the inside at Tanya's sour expression when she'd noticed our clasped hands.

Saying our goodbyes, it was a quick ride back to his office and a quick hug before Rosalie left.

And then it was just the two of us, standing somewhat awkwardly, in front of my sad excuse for a truck.

"Thank you for coming tonight." He scratches the back of his neck, looking down at the side of my truck.

I bite my lip, pulling my shawl tighter against the bitter cold. "It's not like I had much of a choice." I say softly.

He flinches. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am about that, but if—if you ever feel uncomfortable with going somewhere with me, please tell me. I won't force you to go."

Disappointment tugs at me, although I'm not quite sure why. I wasn't exactly hoping he was going to tell me how he felt about me, but then again, I was hoping… hoping for something different. _Hoping he'd forget the bargain we'd agreed upon._

What a stupid, stupid thought. If he didn't want to forget it…then what did that make me to him exactly? A client? An employee?

"I had a good time, all things considered." I say.

His green eyes meet mine. "You looked beautiful tonight."

I smile, unable to hide my blush. "Thank you." The butterflies are doing the Viennese waltz.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" His smile is almost shy.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

He leans forward, cupping my face in his warm hands, as his lips press lightly against mine in a sweet chaste kiss that ends before it ever truly began.

"Goodnight Bella." His eyes send my heart hammering.

"Goodnight," I say quietly, unusually breathless.

I get into my car then, my gown at odds with the ancient truck as I pull away from his office.

 **xXx**

I've almost home when it happens.

One minute I'm driving down the highway listening to good ole' Sinatra, and the next thing I know my car has stalled in the middle of the road; in the middle of a deserted, flickering street lamp highway. _Can it get any more horror movie than this?_

My first thought is poor Jake. He'd just spent hours fixing my car and then this happens. Of course, one moment later I realize I'm the one actually stuck in the middle of Horror Movie Lane with a fossil of a truck. So, screw Jake—poor _me._

I hold my phone in my hands, my fingers tapping lightly against the screen as I debate on whom I should call. A tow company was out of the question; there was no way I could afford their prices. Alice would probably be as helpful as Indiana Jones in a pit full of snakes. Edward… Jake. I'd call Jake and see if he could tow my truck back.

The phone rings several times before going to voicemail. " _Hi Jake, it's Bella. Although you probably already know that since your phone has caller-id and this isn't the nineties any more—wait, did phones have caller-id then? I can't remember…. but anyways, I know it's late, but my car has died in the middle of a crappy highway. Whenever you wake up, do you think you could come by and pick my truck up. You know—before the cops come and drag it away and then fine me like a bazillion dollars. I'm going to try to get a friend to take me back—thanks Jake, you're the best! Unless my car gets towed…_ "

Now the dilemma remained on whom to call to take me home. Alice or Edward? They were both fairly close to me and both probably awake at this time of night. I deliberate for several moments before finally calling.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I know it's really late, but my car broke down in the middle of the road and I was wondering if you could pick me up and drive me home?"

"Yeah, of course. Where are you?"

"On Parker Ave—just past the old Mill."

"Oh geez, that's a crappy part of town. Sit tight, I'll be there soon."

"Thanks." I hang up and toss the phone onto the console before leaning my head back against the seat.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes I'm not in my car, but in a toasty warm one that's making its way down a completely different road.

I yawn, stretching my hands in front of me before twisting my neck to look at the driver.

"You know you could have woken me."

He glances over and gives me a soft smile before turning his attention back to the road. "I did."

"You did?" I frown.

"Yes, I did." He chuckles. "You wouldn't wake up at first, so I picked you up and then you woke up and said you had feet and could carry yourself, but then you thanked me for being your knight in shining armor, kissed my cheek and passed out."

"Please tell me you're making that up," I say, placing my hands over my face.

"No can do," he laughs.

I look at him through my fingers. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little."

"I thought so," I grumble and drop my hands as we pull in front of my shop.

"Thank you for picking me up." I place one hand on the door handle and look back at him.

"It's no problem. I'm glad you called." His brow scrunches, "You know you can call me anytime."

I bite my lip, unsure what he means by that. "Thanks again," I pull on the door handle and then pause, fighting with myself for a moment before finally caving in. "Would you like to come in?"

His eyes widen slightly, but he's nodding his head before I think he even really comprehends it.

He follows me to the door, waiting patiently as I fumble with the locks and then push the door open.

"It's so dark in here. How can you see anything?" There's a small thump and I can only assume he knocked a book off its display.

"You get used to it," I chuckle after the door has been locked back. "Now come on." I grab his hand in the darkened room and lead him up the stairs at the back of the room.

"You know Thomas Edison invented this thing called a light bulb—you might want to try it out."

"Really? I had _no_ idea." I say with a flip of a switch.

"Much better." He grins. He looks around the small apartment, taking in the old worn white walls, blue carpeting, and wooden filigree borders.

"It's not much." I twist my fingers, watching him carefully.

He sits on the grey sofa and stretches his legs out. "No—It's quaint. I like it."

"Thanks…" I say. It's silent for several moments and I feel my face reddening from the awkwardness of the situation. "I—I'm going to go change, make yourself comfortable." I shuffle out of the room as quickly as possibly.

In my bedroom, however, is the dilemma of what to wear. I could go the usual route of sweatpants and my baggy, holey shirt…but then again that just screamed slob.

I pull open one of the drawers from my vanity and rifle around the contents. Several silky items I quickly disregard. Alice meant well in her gifts, but they were too raunchy for my taste—or to be more precise, I was too embarrassed to even attempt wearing them when I was alone.

Near the bottom of the drawer, I grab a pair of green shorts and an old fitted U-Dubs shirt and throw them onto the bed. I grasp the top of the dresser with one hand and pull my heels off with the other. The comfort is instantaneous.

I pull off the bracelet, the only jewelry I'd worn to the Opera and then reach back towards the zipper of my dress, only to find that no matter which way I try, I am unable to reach it.

My face flushes as I pull open the door and make my way to the living room.

He's sprawled out on the sofa in his pants and a white undershirt, his jacket and top folded neatly on the coffee table, the shoes below on the carpet.

I clear my throat, his eyes meeting mine a moment later. He raises a single brow. "There's a zipper on the back of my dress, I—I can't reach it."

He stands up slowly and I turn before I can fully grasp his expression. A moment later I feel warm hands at the nape of my neck. I shiver.

"Sorry." He says huskily. He pulls my hair to the side of my shoulder, his hands sliding down to rest at the top of the zipper. There's a slight pause and then I feel the cold air against my lower back.

"Thanks," I bite my lip. Heart hammering, I wait for him to move his hand off my upper back. We stand there for a moment, in silence, and a few times I swear I hear him taking a breath as if to speak, but then he steps back and my heart drops in disappointment. I hurry to my room to change. _Coward._

When I reemerge, I'm in my pajamas. He gazes at me approvingly. "U-Dubs, nice. I had a cousin that went there."

"Sounds like a good person." I grin and plop down onto the sofa next to him.

"So…" he draws out the word. "What do you want to do now that you have me here… all alone." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

I toss a pillow at him. "Here I was feeling guilty that you're here stuck in your tuxedo." I shake my head. "I hope that thing is uncomfortable."

He cocks his head. "You know, it kind of _is_ rather uncomfortable. Maybe I should take it off." He stands, his hands going to the buttons on his waistband.

My eyes widen, a flush creeping across my cheeks, even as I grab his arm and yank him back onto the sofa. "No!"

He laughs, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. "Well, what do you want to do then?"

I shrug. "I probably should of thought about that when I invited you here." I purse my lips. "We could watch a movie?"

He nods. "Got anything good?"

I point towards the stand under the television. "They're all in there."

He stands and then crouches in front of the stand, pulling open the drawer. "Not a very big collection."

"Well in case you haven't noticed, I own a bookstore. There are literally a thousand stories I can watch in my head."

"Good point." He browses for a moment longer before lifting up a case for my inspection. "How about this one?"

A yawn rips from my throat. "Sure."

He slides the disc inside and dims the lights before sitting down next to me. Close. He's too close. His thigh brushes against mine and I curl my hands tightly into fits, lest I reach for him.

The screen lights up, the music blaring as the movie begins, but I can only focus on the heat. On the citrusy clean smell. On the smell of _him_ as it fills my nostrils.

I feel something warm, calloused, brush against my right arm and then his hand wraps around mine, enveloping it in his warmth.

My heart thumps, thumps, thumps painfully in my chest; my body tingling with nerves that I can't seem to banish. I tighten my hand in his and then slowly lay my head against his shoulder, releasing a breath when his arms wrap lightly around me.

I yawn again, my eyes closing of their own accord as I relax in his grasp. And as I fall asleep, the movie already forgotten, I realize that I would probably be content to stay in his arms forever.

Quite content indeed.

* * *

 **.**

What movie do you think they were watching? :D

 ***Spoiler/ish***

The next two chapters were my favorite to write, but I don't know if it'll be your favorite to read (lol). The proverbial shit, so to speak, is about to hit the fan.

 _*Runs and hides.*_


	11. Breaking

Posting early this week, since it's a holiday for people here in the states tomorrow.

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

" _So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love."_ — _E.A. Bucchianeri_

 **.**

 **Chapter Eleven**

Breaking

 **.**

The eyes regarded me shrewdly, the dark pupils narrowed as they take in my appearance. I squirm under the judgmental gaze and try to tame the mess I call hair, but to no avail.

"You can do this," I tell myself, ignoring the impenetrable gaze. "You can do this." I grab a wet strand of hair off my dress and twist it into a simple bun at the nape of my neck. "There, see- much bett-" the elastic from the hair tie breaks, sending my hair flying back down.

"You judgmental bastard!" I hurdle the insult, meeting the familiar gaze head on. She was such a bitch sometimes. If only reflections could lie to you. I glare at her for a few minutes more, trying and failing to fix my water logged hair. On all the days it could rain…

Shooting a gesture I'm sure mother would not approve of at my reflection, I stomp out into the hall.

"Bella!" I glance around and spot Rosalie waving me towards the impromptu bar.

The Museum, as I speak, is being turned into a charity gala for one of Rosalie's many foundations. People- rich people will arrive later tonight to dine on expensive food and bid on nonsensical shit they don't need. All in the name of charity. _More like a chance to show off how rich they are._ Since it's for charity I can't really complain…. _much_.

The ball will be held in the main room, with the golden rotunda being the main focus. Similarly the rest of the room is decorated. Golden fabric streams down one side of the long wall, flickering and shimmering as it settles. Navy table cloths litter the room, setting a nice contrast against the golden decor.

I smile as I reach Rose, sliding onto one of the bar stools. "Hey."

"Thank you so much for your help today!" She smiles, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "I'm so sorry you got caught in the rain on your way back." One of her employees had forgotten to pick up the floral arrangements, and so me being me, I had offered to pick them up halfway through decorating. You can piece the rest together yourself…

I shrug, trying to pass it off as if I don't care. "It's no big deal. I'm glad I could help."

She squeezes my hand once more before letting go. "It doesn't start until seven. You can go home and change real quick if you'd like. Nobody will care if you're late. Hell, most people will probably get here late anyways."

"I don't think I'm going to stay. Dressy parties aren't really my thing." No point telling her this is the only clean and...well, the only fancy cocktail dress I own.

"Are you sure?" Her smile droops. "I really wish you'd stay."

"I know, I'm sorry. I kind of just want to curl up in my bed and sleep until next year."

She slides off the stool and gives me a quick embrace. "I understand. I'll see you later then."

I watch her walk off and try to suppress the guilt I feel gnawing in my stomach. I really liked Rose and I felt like we were slowly becoming friends. Maybe that was why I felt bad, like I was letting her down in some unexplained way.

I hop off the stool and wander back over toward the long hallway. Might as well enjoy the Frescoes one last time before I left. Who knows when I'd see them again.

The instant I enter the hallway however, I know the Frescoes will have to wait. Standing as still as a marble statue itself, is a man dressed to the nine's in a custom fitted tuxedo. And not just any man.

Edward.

I had seen him in a tux just the other night, but even now it's enough to take my breath away. He hasn't noticed me yet. He's glancing down at his phone, frowning slightly.

I approach him slowly, careful that my heels don't clack against the tiled floor. "There are some exquisite paintings all around you and yet you're staring at your phone. Somehow I think _Masaccio_ is more interesting than anything Steve Jobs created."

His head snaps up, his face anxious for a single puzzling moment, before shifting into a familiar lopsided smile. "Bella, I didn't expect to see you here tonight." Indeed. His gaze takes in my soaked appearance, at the way my white dress clings to me like a second skin. His gaze darkens.

I choose to ignore the way his eyes set me on fire. "Really? Because I thought you hired me for these kind of events."

"Among other things." His eyes rake me over appreciatively.

His eyes- his voice! God, he could set me a flame in the best way possible.

"As it is," he continues, "I thought you deserved a night off. These events can be rather tedious, even if they are for a good cause. Besides I figured you would prefer books over dresses."

"God, it's like you know me." I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder. His eyes follow the movement.

"But now that you're here…" he trails off. He grabs my hand and pulls me down the long hallway and into another room full of offices. He pushes the corner office door open and pulls me inside, locking it behind him.

I gulp, my eyes taking a minute to adjust to the darkened room. The light from a street lamp peeks through the closed blinds, illuminating the heavy wooden desk and plush leather seats in a golden glow.

Edward stalks towards me, his face glowing in the yellow light. I back up: my heart hammering a staccato beat in anticipation. His hands reach out, one sliding behind my neck as the other grabs my waist and pulls me towards him.

His lips are a balm against mine. Warm, sweet, and yet insistent as they consume me. His lips part mine, his tongue stroking my own, caressing my mouth in a way that causes me to shudder.

My hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, tighter, against me. He growls, a low deep-seated noise that sets me a flame. His hands slide down to my hips and then pulls them flush against his own. Against the hardness of him.

I bit his bottom lip, pulling at the swollen skin before releasing it with a quick swipe of my tongue. My lips trail down to his neck, lavishing the warm flesh as my hands reach for his belt. His hands stop me and instead he makes quick work of loosening them enough for his thick length to slide free.

My hands reach down, wrapping around the sensitive skin. He hisses, letting out a quick breath, and then his hands are on my thighs, sliding the fabric up to my waist. He yanks my underwear off, flinging it god knows where before turning me around.

He pulls me flush against him until I can feel him against my backside. "You see what you do to me." His voice is a sibilant caress against my ear, as he pushes me against the desk, until my chest is lying against the smooth surface. I would blush at being spread out over this desk with my ass in the air, but currently my need is too great to care.

His hands slide up my thighs and dip between my legs, into the core of me. He groans when he finds me ready and a moment later I feel him seated fully inside me. I moan; he is so much deeper this way. He fills me completely and utterly- to the point that I can feel him with each and every breath he takes.

My hands reach out, grasping onto the edge of the desk as he pulls back and eases himself back inside. He does it again, slowly picking up speed until all I can concentrate on is the steady thrump as his skins slaps against mine, over and over again.

"You are exquisite." He murmurs, his pace slowing slightly as I feel his chest press against my back. He places soft kisses against my neck, his hands covering my own as they dig into the wood.

His speed picks up again and I mewl, relishing at each stroke of his hips. I push against him; desperate for the warmth I feel barreling its way towards me. He groans, his breath growing ragged as his movements become uncoordinated and jerky. His thrusts speed up to a punishing pace and I cry out as the warmth explodes, radiating across my entire being. He jerks against me one last time, calling my name out as he releases.

We are still for a moment, unable to disengage from one another as we try to control our breathing. He eases himself out and I grimace at the soreness I feel growing between my legs. We sit up, gazing at each other in a jumble of emotions that I doubted I'd ever be able to sort out.

A smile forms on my lips. "That escalated really quickly."

He chuckles. "Just a little."

I suppress my own laughter. "Be honest. It was the dress, wasn't it?"

His green eyes meet my own, the amusement clear as day. "Yeah...it kinda was."

We both laugh, the noise filling the room as tears spring to our eyes. I look away; try to control my laughter, but when we glance back at each other it starts all over again.

I slide off the desk and pull my dress back into place as Edward fixes his trousers. I reach out, smoothing the mess of hair on his head; a mess, which I'd caused.

"I guess there was no point adding that styling gel." He chuckles.

"You styled it?" I tilt my head slightly. "I didn't notice."

"I don't know why I even bother." He huffs, but his eyes are alight with feelings that mirror my own. He grabs my hand and leads us back towards the main room. "I'll see you out to your truck."

"Out?" I ask. "I kind of figured you'd want me to stay after…" Now my blush feels the need to rise to my face.

Our walk is brisk, moving steadily towards the doors. He doesn't look back. "I meant it when I said you deserve time to yourself. I didn't mean to get caught up in... I mean, I didn't mean to lose control like that."

I drag my feet until he comes to a stop. "If you lost control then so did I. It's not a big deal, we've done that before." I watch as his face reddens slightly. "I don't know why you seem so...so upset. No, not upset, but- you don't seem particularly happy at what we just did."

"No." He shakes his head. "No, Bella. I'm definitely not upset or unhappy. You consume me. Every part of you does."

I ignore his words, even as they set my heart stuttering. "Then why do I get the feeling that you are in such a rush for me to leave?"

"I'm not. I'm-," he starts.

"Eddie!" The shrill voice rings through the room. He stiffens, his back going ramrod straight as he turns towards the voice.

I feel my own face pale as I take in Tanya. Tanya- in her fitted gold dress that cascades down her curvy, beautiful body. She looks like a walking trophy— a trophy that is currently embracing Edward in a tight hug.

My heart speeds up, stops, and speeds up again- as if it too doesn't know what to do.

She doesn't notice me as she releases him from the hug and wraps her arm around his. "I'm glad you called. I was afraid I'd come here dateless."

 _You called?_ My heart stops. The pain in my chest freezes; fractures, even as I feel it breaking into a million tiny shards. _You called_ …

I back up slowly, praying that he doesn't turn around, that Tanya can somehow keep him preoccupied until I can get out of here.

 _You called._

I'm almost to the door when he turns. But I can't meet his eyes and instead I bolt out the front door- even as I'm sure I hear my name being called from somewhere inside.

I race down the steps, stripping my heels off as I rush down the two blocks to my rusty old truck. I welcome the rain, the wet, even as it clings it me. It's real. It's...something different.

 _You called._

I yank the door open, slamming it shut as I try in vain to fit the keys into the ignition. My hands shake too much and it takes me five tries to fit the key inside. But I don't start it. Instead my hands slacken against the steering wheel and I slump against my seat.

Of course. I should have known this would happen. I was only a job to him after all- even…. even if I hadn't exactly felt like one. He had said…. he had told me from the beginning what he wanted- what the job entailed. Yet…. yet it hadn't felt like that. It had never truly felt like that. Not to _me_.

He had a date— a _date_. And we had just…

I had just...

Whore.

I was a whore.

A whore.

I had _debased_ myself. I had let him do it. I had _wanted_ to do it…. And yet he knew. He _knew_ that Tanya was coming here tonight.

 _For him._

To be with him.

It shudders through me then. Great heaving sobs that wrack my entire being: that force themselves out of my body. I was defenseless to stop them, to control the tears- to control my heart as it squeezes and breaks into a million tiny pieces.

I hurt everywhere and nowhere: the pain both physical and mental. My head hurts, my whole body aches as the sobs forcibly break from within me.

A soft knock sounds against my window, but I can't concentrate, can't focus long enough to see through the wall of tears. I hear it open and then feel a soft, feminine body, grasp me tightly. I break again, burying my head into the sloped shoulder as I shatter again and again.

The voice is soft, familiar as she whispers, as she hums soothing words into my ear. She pushes me further into the cab, until I'm no longer in the driver's seat.

"I'm taking you home," she says, starting the car. "And then when you feel better, we are going to have a talk. A very long talk."

Later.

I would worry about her words later, but all I could do was be glad that she was here. That I wouldn't have to face this alone.

* * *

 **.**

The warning of angst, worried a lot of people... and I think the worry was well deserved lol.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews! It's super exciting watching my emails for fanfic stuff, and I'm so close to 100 reviews (eek).

Have a happy July 4th to all my American readers :)


	12. These Spoken Words

A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

" _I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." –_ Marilyn Monroe

 **.**

 **Chapter Twelve**

These Spoken Words

 **.**

Sleep is a fine fickle thing.

Sometimes it graces you with its presence- cocoons you in its beautiful embrace as you drift off into the wondrous unknown. Yet, other times it leaves you stranded deep in the desert, gasping for air and nowhere in sight.

Sleep is a cold-hearted bitch that has finally evaded me.

I lay curled up on the couch, covered in a thick layer of blankets as I gaze out the rain-soaked window. I look towards the larger shops in the distance, as if they could somehow tell me what my future held.

I listen to the rain. Listen to the steady _tap tap_ as each drop pings off the metal gutter. It was slowing down. It would stop soon, and the clouds would slowly disappear back into the endless night sky. As if they had never existed.

"Here."

I turn at the sound, gazing up as Rosalie stands over me, a steaming cup of chocolate in her hands. She hands me the cup and I grasp it eagerly, happy to hold the hot cup between my cold palms.

"Thank you." My voice scratches out.

She sits on the end of the sofa, next to my feet, and rewards me with a soft smile. "You're welcome." She fiddles with the hem of my borrowed shirt, twisting the fabric over and over again in her small hands.

The rain had been unkind to our dresses: soaking through mine entirely and ruining her own lilac gown in the process. My tears had run out by the time she'd pulled up in front of my store. I had given her some of my own clothes once we'd gotten to my apartment, and we had made quick work of changing into something warm and dry.

Mercifully, I had fallen asleep for a short while, only to wake a few hours later. Rosalie had stayed, watching out and waiting for me. A kindness: one I would never be able to repay and one that I'd always be grateful for.

"What happened tonight?"

I take a sip of the drink to distract myself and the liquid scorches down my throat. "I don't know if I can talk about it."

"Tell me something," she begs. Her gaze lands on me, pleading. "Please."

I take another sip before answering her. "Edward was at the gala. I didn't know he was going to be here, and we ran into each other." I swallow. "Then Tanya came- as his date."

She frowns. "He shouldn't have done that. You told me at the opera that you two were still sorting out what you were. You may not be official or anything, but I see the way you look at each other. But still...the way you ran out of the museum… Something else happened, didn't it?"

"We had sex, in one of the offices, before he ran into her."

She freezes and her eyes flash in anger. "That bastard."

I nod numbly, and try to keep the water I feel welling in my eyes, at bay.

"What is going on between you two?" She asks. "I know it's none of my business, and I love my brother-in-law, but whatever you two have— it's hurting you."

Setting my mug down on the coffee table, I look down, staring at my intertwined hands as l mull her words over. I couldn't tell her the truth. No matter how much Edward had hurt me; I knew I could never hurt him the same way.

The question remained then: how much of the truth could I tell her? And what did I want to tell her?

"When my father was alive," I spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully, "he took out a loan because the shop was in trouble, financially. I didn't know it, but we were barely making enough to live off of. When he died, I took control of the store and the loan defaulted to me. I was paying it every month, but I knew I wouldn't be able to finish paying it off when it was due: so, I went to his office- to ask him to give me some more time."

I pause, taking a breath; twisting my fingers harder. "He didn't want to…. I mean he told me no, that he couldn't extend the loan any more than he had. I begged him and I guess he felt...pity?" I can't tell her everything- can't tell her how I'd begged that I'd _do anything_ to keep the store or how the way his eyes had flashed when I'd said those words; how he'd shifted in his seat when I'd uttered those stupid, stupid words. "He said if I worked for him, as his event coordinator, and attended those events with him— then I wouldn't have to worry about the loan anymore."

It is silent for a sundry of agonizing minutes. I can't meet her gaze; can't meet the hatred, the disgust, the horror that I'm sure is covering her face. _What she must think of me…_ I wait for the slurs, the angry words that will leave her lips at any moment— words that I most likely deserve.

"You…" I tense when she speaks, "...he— he didn't f-force you, did he?" Her voice is muted, worried, but still I cannot meet her gaze.

I shake my head. "No, he didn't."

Her hand brushes my arm. "I'm sorry."

My eyes snap up to hers. Her eyes are soft, sad, and utterly, and heart wrenchingly tender. And _damn me_ , but I can't help it as the water blurs my vision. "Sorry?"

She pulls me from the cocoon of blankets and hugs me tightly. "Of course, I am. You are the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met, and you don't deserve to be in pain— no matter how much you love my brother."

 _Love?_

I push the thought away and embrace her as the tears silently leak down my face.

"Don't worry about the loan." She murmurs over my shoulder. "I'll talk to my husband. As soon as I tell him, I'm sure Emmett will talk to Edward. We'll figure out a way to get you out of this."

I tense and break away from her. "No, please don't tell anyone else."

She frowns. "Bella, it wasn't fair of him to put you through this. You don't have to do it anymore— I won't let you."

"I know…. I _know_ ," my voice breaks, "...but I don't know what to do yet. Don't— please don't say anything to Edward, or anyone else, until I figure it out." She opens her mouth to protest, but I push on. "Please…. please just let me talk to Edward before you do anything."

Her brows knit together. "I don't like it, but I promise I won't say anything, for now. But," she continues, "please talk to him soon. Don't let this fester— it'll only make things worse and harder for you."

I nod. "I will. I promise."

"You…you don't think Edward will come here, do you?" I add as an afterthought. My stomach churns at the idea of seeing him, and not in a good way.

She pauses for a second. "No. Edward…. He doesn't do well with the rain. Long story short, he was in an accident, and he refuses to drive when it's like this."

"What happened?"

"That's not my story to tell." She lets out a breath, "As long as it's raining, you don't have to worry. He won't show up."

 **xXx**

She drives my truck back to the gala, to get her own car, promising to somehow return my truck to me as soon as possible. I tell her not to worry about it, but she insisted and had hugged me tightly before leaving.

I would forever be grateful to her. She had gone out of her way, had left the gala that she'd put together, just to help me. We hadn't known each other but a few months, yet she had gone above and beyond. I didn't know how to thank her, and I hoped she knew how much what she had done had meant to me.

I wander around the store, straightening books and dusting the shelves as I think over her words- over how I'd ended up in this mess to begin with.

I should have never of gotten so twisted in this mess. Should have never allowed myself to feel anything other than contempt for him. But it had snuck up on me—these jumble of emotions. I had fought these feeling; had tried to ignore the way he had made me feel; had pushed them away so thoroughly that I'd been unaware, defenseless when they had snuck up on me.

Did I love him, as Rosalie had said?

I didn't have the answer. And I think that scared me more than anything else.

He had blackmailed me, and he had been demanding and downright rude at times. I should hate him; despise him. Yet….

Why did I still want to kiss him? Hold him?

Did I love him?

"Damn-it." I slam a book down on the counter, the thud echoing faintly through the room.

There was a part of him, a large part, that wanted me as much as I wanted him. I knew there was. I had thought, at times, that it was something more for him. The first time we were together, he had thought he'd made me—had seemed to regret it. And then those times he kissed me, not necessarily to derive pleasure, but because he'd simply wanted to. And he'd been so sweet to me at the opera— had stayed with me the entire time.

How much of this was real for him?

Was I really nothing more to him than an employee of sorts; a way for him to get some…release?

He had every right, I suppose, to bring Tanya tonight. We weren't in any relationship- weren't bound to one another in any way.

I would have to accept it. Would have to detach myself, emotionally, from him. It wouldn't be easy, I know, but I would do it— I would try. If he called, I'd go to him; I'd be with him.

But nothing more. I would be friendly, sweet—the perfect date when he needed me to be, but I would stay away from him otherwise. I wouldn't even talk to him outside of events…or… sex.

I let out a huff of air. My fingers play with the binding on the book: _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , my dad's favorite book. The cover was on the verge of falling off and likewise the pages were yellowed, curled, water-stained in some parts, and in no better shape.

"Why couldn't you just let me graduate high school?" I whisper. "Why encourage me to go to college when you knew we couldn't afford it? It wasn't worth it… I have nothing to show for this degree." My thumb rubs over the rough texture of the cover. "What am I going to do?"

I sit on the counter, lost in my own thoughts for an immeasurable amount of minutes. Time was a social construct and as long as I sat here, I could ignore it—pretend as if it couldn't reach me. I was beyond time…. Or so I could pretend.

Time has a funny way of catching up to us, usually much sooner than we'd like.

A knock sounds on the door and I slide off the counter. Had Rosalie forgotten something? Barefoot, I wander over to the door and fumble with the lock, before pulling it open.

Rain glistened down tanned skin, soaking through the expensive suit. His hair was a flat mess against his head, and he panted when he spoke, his car nowhere in sight. "Bella?"

My thoughts are a jumbled mess: they are turned upside down; a twist of tangled knots that I cannot sort through. My heart beats painfully, caged and wild, begging to be let go—demanding to be released.

"Edward."

* * *

 **.**

All the wonderful reviews were amazing to read! And a little bit scary as well. Which isn't a bad thing- it's just that, having people tell me they like my story and are excited to read more, is really nerve racking as well. It's exciting, but it puts me in this mindset of- what if I disappoint people who like this story? This is the first time I've actually written a story that was for me. My expectations aren't high, they're just interested in seeing where my story takes me- whether that be five more chapters or ten more chapters. And yes I've gotten a few flames for my characters, but the worry is that, since this story is no longer just for me, but for my readers as well, there is this sense of not being to meet expectations, and truthfully, that worries me a lot.


	13. These Broken Chains

A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

 _I hate and love. And why, perhaps you'll ask. I don't know: but I feel, and I'm tormented. –_ Catullus

 **.**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

These Broken Chains

 **.**

Time is a social construct: one that is shaped and formed by each and every person who wields it. It is a constant measure of the day and yet it is also inconsistent in every way. At work time drags, seemingly never ending, while when you need it most- hours that you savored in a dingy hospital room- or to compose your racing mind, it flees; it rushes by so fast, so quickly, that you are unable to spare even a single moment.

Time has caught up; it stares me in the face: a mockery of gold-flecked green eyes.

"Edward." My voice is barely a whisper: a strangled breath of words. "W-what are you doing here?"

He scans my face, worry etched in his brow. "Are you okay?" His eyes cannot sit still: like they're searching for some hidden injury. "You were with me and then when I turned around you were nowhere in sight. I saw Rosalie rushing outside and by the time I got out of the building, I saw the two of you driving off in your truck."

"You- you mean you don't know why I ran out?" My voice falters; my heart pounding an unsteady beat in my chest.

"No." His brows furrow. "I thought...I thought something happened- I thought you were hurt."

I take a deep breath, fighting hard to control the raging emotions. "I'm fine." My voice comes out smaller than I'd hope: barely above a whisper in the misting rain. "Look, it's late and I really just want to go to sleep. I'll… talk to you in the morning, okay?"

I brace my hand on the door, to pull it shut, but he places his own over mine. I flinch at the touch, pulling away.

He frowns, confusion marring his handsome face. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me what's wrong. Why are you upset?"

Annoyance flashes deep within my stomach. "It's none of your business."

"I know— but I care about you." I close my eyes. "Are you okay?"

I take a deep breath, turning my back to him to hide the anger and resentment I feel bubbling its way to the surface, and then storm into the shop. I run a hand down my face, sighing heavily. "You really don't know why I ran out?"

"No."

I purse my lips. "No idea at all?"

"None."

The fact that he truly doesn't know; doesn't comprehend— somehow makes it worse. _Infinitely_ worse.

I turn my head to the side. "Why did you give me the day off?"

"Because you deserved-" he starts.

I whirl around. "No- I've been to every single event you've had. _Every single one..._ and I don't believe for a second that you suddenly felt the need to give me ' _a day of;f_. _Why. Did. You. Give. Me. The. Day. Off?"_

Ire flashes in his emerald gaze: his hands tighten into fists at his sides. "As you so eloquently put it- It's none of your business."

"It is my business." I snap. "If it involves me...then it is my damn business."

"How?" He snaps back. "How does it involve you?"

"How? _How?"_ I barely manage to keep from shouting. "First you fuck me and then you're in such a god damned hurry to get me out of there so you can rush to your precious date."

His nostrils flare. "You don't know anything."

"No," I shake my head. "Neither do you, apparently."

"You knew— you know what you were agreeing to when you signed those papers. Don't blame me because you suddenly feel ashamed about having sex."

"It wasn't like I had much of a choice." I hiss through my teeth. "End up homeless or be with you and save my shop. What choice was there to make?"

He stiffens. "You knew what you were getting into," he repeats. "I made no promises outside of that contract. What I do outside of it is none of your concern."

"Then maybe you should take your own advice and keep your damn nose out of _my_ business!"

His smile is anything but pleasant. "You forget that I can invoke this contract at any time. If I wanted to...when I want— I can make you my business. I can make you mine at any time I feel like it."

I stiffen. "You don't own me."

He tilts his head ever so slightly. "Don't I?"

And then he's stalking towards me, slow and sure. Nothing, there is nothing in those gold-flecked eyes, but that of a pure-blooded predator.

I back up a step and then another, words failing me entirely as my back hits the counter. His arms surround me, cocooning me in a cage of _him_. My heart pulses—pounds painfully in my chest. I don't know what to think, what to feel as he gazes down at me.

"Kiss me." His voice is husky and deep.

I clench my jaw, "No."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Last I remember, you still have a binding contract."

I glare at him. "And last I remember, I agreed to those terms on the condition that I wouldn't have to kiss you."

His nostrils flare. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't you kissed me a hell of a lot? That first day too, after you signed that contract I believe…and right after you said you wouldn't. I figured that was kind of a moot point by now." His gaze flickers to my lips. "Kiss me."

"That day I signed the contract…" _the day I signed my heart away,_ "…I said I only kissed people I like. I don't like you. I _hate_ you. I won't kiss you."

Hurt flashes in his gaze and although a part of me feels guilt at those words…another part feels glad that I've wounded him—even if it's only a fraction of the pain he's caused —is causing— me.

He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. I watch his face—watch as the hurt changes to sadness and then to unbridled, passionate, bone-breaking ire.

"You hate me—fine. That's fine. You can hate me all you want," his voice is a sibilant caress against my ear, "but I know you want me." He pushes his hips against mine and the touch sends a tingling sensation through my body. "You can hate me, but I know your body wants me. Will you deny yourself that… pleasure?"

I grab his arm to push him away when he pushes his hips into me again, and I gasp at the way my traitorous body reflexively jolts forward into his. Not one to waste an opportunity, he pounces, covering my lips with his own.

My hands clench into fists against his lapels, but they sit there uselessly. I should shove him away—should…. should…

But the feeling is so warm, so deliciously familiar. I can't… I don't want to…

My hands tighten on his suit and I roughly yank him against me, fighting back with my own mouth. I suck his bottom lip between mine, reveling in the low moan that escapes from him.

His hands wrap around me, pulling me tight against him as his mouth fights back for control. It is not sweet and gentle. It is a war, a battle, and a dance; a chaotic clash of tongue and teeth: neither one of us backs down, we will not lose to the other.

Our movements get rougher, more frenzied as he shrugs out of his jacket. We cannot get close enough—cannot feel enough of each other. Our hands roam up, down, all around and we cannot let go of the other.

He lifts me onto the counter and rips his mouth away from mine, only to begin a heated, wet descent down my jaw and neck. I tilt my head back, reveling in the feeling. I place my hands behind me, to have a steadier hold on the counter, when my hand grazes a familiar cover. I lean down, the words hitting me like a brick: _To Kill a Mockingbird._

Grief, insurmountable, grief hits me like a freight train. "No!" I yell, shoving him back with all my considerable strength.

He stumbles back, careening with a shelf. Books fall, thumping loudly in the echoing silence. His face is a mask of lust and shock.

We're both breathing heavily: our chests rising and falling sharply as we try to catch our breath.

"No." I say again, more forcibly, not caring as tears rip down my face. "You don't get to do that. You… you don't get to have me here. Not—not in my dad's store. Not like this."

"Bella—," his voice is soft and instantly sorrowful.

I cut him off. "You have taken advantage of me—confused me in all possible ways and hurt me even more. I—I can't do this anymore…and I know—I know I signed that contract, but I just can't." He stiffens, but I can't stop the torrent of words that escape from me. "I don't care if you kick me out. I don't care if I have to keep paying you back until the day I die—but I can't do this anymore."

"Bella—" he starts forward, panic steadily rising on his face.

"You knew how much this place meant to me. This is the only thing left I have of my father, and you…you want me _here_?" My voice breaks, "I won't let you ruin the only good thing I have left. I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my being. I thought… I thought I l—," I cut myself off. "I wish I never met you."

I pull the door open. "Get out."

"I'm sorry. Please let—,"

"Get out! I never want to see you again. Just…just please leave me alone!"

" _Please_."

I turn away, shaking my head. "Please leave." My voice is nothing but a broken whisper: a forgotten melody of what it once was.

I hear the shuffle of feet, the ragged breaths and then he's outside. I cannot look up, cannot meet the gaze that has been my undoing. And as I shut the door, I feel it, deep within my heart, another door buried far within shutting as well.

I count my heartbeats, wild and raging as they are, and when it reaches its tenth beat, I collapse heavily against the door. I will the floor to open, to swallow me whole—if only so I don't have to feel as my heart collapses in on itself.

I love him. I had realized that the moment the door had opened and I'd seen his handsome face.

And yet I hated him—hated him so damned much.

But the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that I hated that I loved him.

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Thank you for reading and for all the wonderful support, and kind reviews. I'm sorry for the major cliffhanger, (kinda), but I promise all this angst wont last- I know it seems like it's been going on forever, but not much longer, I promise! I hit a minor writer's block (don't worry, I'm like three chapters ahead!), but incase it doesn't go away, I may be slow to update future chapters, but I will update.

Sorry for the delay! I've been packing up to move out of my apartment, studying for summer finals, getting trapped momentarily in an elevator, and dealing with a hit and run driver who decided hitting my parked car was good target practice. And all this week! Wooo...


	14. For the Love of Friends

A/n at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

" _Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer."_ – Ed Cunningham

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 **Chapter Fourteen**

For the Love of Friends

Life, is going through the motions. Life is continuing, even when you'd rather, preferably, be curled up in your bed doing nothing. However, I am but a tiny speck in the world compared to others that have had it way worse than I ever have. It feels selfish to cry, to not continue on even though it hurts.

But I smile anyway and assist the customers that come into the store. I joke with Jake and reorganize the nonfiction section; again, again, again. Keeping busy is my sanctuary; idle hands are the devil, or so the saying goes.

When my grandfather had died, my mother, before she left the picture, became a walking shell- a shadow of a person. For days she had laid in bed; crying and sleeping. And I tried so hard to take care of her, even though I began to resent it, because I loved her- because I couldn't stand to see her hurt. It was months before she even began to leave her room, and at ten years old, I had felt like I'd lost a parent already. Eventually she changed, became a different person entirely, and left my father and I to take care of each other.

Then years later, my father died, and I had no one to pick up the pieces. I had no one to fall back on. I had a week to put his affairs in order, to hold the funeral and mourn for two days, before I had to continue working; continue surviving. My mother came to the funeral, and called me but a few times before she got back to her own life.

Jake had not yet started working at the bookshop, and Alice had been in Paris, interning at a fashion firm. I had to be an adult; I could not allow myself time off, not when I'd truly realized how in debt my father had been. So, the bookshop became my soul and only focus, and but two years later, I'd realized I would not be able to keep it if I did not talk to the company responsible for the loan on the store.

Thus, began the twisted, ridiculousness that became my life for the next several months. I had hated it, I had told myself so, and yet I had craved the excitement of it- even though I had lied to myself. It was wrong and unhealthy, and yet it was exactly what I had needed to fill this gaping void in my heart. I had unintentionally thrown myself into the fire and without even realizing it, I had fallen in love.

And even though the experience could not even come close to comparing to losing my father, it still ached and hurt. And was so utterly miserable, that I couldn't help but bring up thoughts and memories that had also caused me pain.

It was a vicious cycle.

But still I smiled and greeted everyone who came into my store and was a picture-perfect image of walking depression. I joked with Jacob and smiled my goodbyes when we closed for the night.

The days that follow, though, are of a similar pattern, at least until the weekend hits. Then I can finally break down and admit to myself how screwed up everything has become.

And you know those movies that show girls crying over a pint of Ben & Jerry's after a bad breakup? Or the ones that show them getting rip roaring drunk at a club? Well?

Scratch those images out of your mind, because I don't eat a pint or go clubbing. No. Instead I spend the next forty-eight hours… or is it seventy-two hours? (I wouldn't know, time is a vindictive bastard) – I spend that time curled up on the sofa with a _quart_ of Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry and a nice big bottle of wine that would usually last me months

And thus, the days that follow the… _breakup_ , if you could call it that… are not ones I especially care to relive or remember in any capacity: hence the wine.

Yet, no matter how hard I try to avoid thinking about certain things – or a certain someone— the thoughts still come to me, unbidden and unwelcome. If it's not him I cry over, it's worrying over what will happen to me. Because surely… surely, I wouldn't be able to keep my store after what I'd said and what I had done.

Worry. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. I was in a blender of emotions, with none solidifying long enough for me to grasp on to. It was a vicious, brutal cycle that spun and spun and spun, until I was in nothing but a dizzying circle that had no way out.

And the wine certainly didn't help make it easier to think.

Alice and Rosalie both call at some point during this mess: Rosalie to check up on me, and Alice to just talk. They both receive some varying degree of the truth: Rosalie more so than the latter. They are a welcome reprieve; a solace and a balm that I unburden upon.

They both inform me, separately, of their plans to come over and cheer me up. So it doesn't surprise me as much as it does when I open the door and see two familiar faces having arrived at the same time.

What does surprise me, however, is the fact that my two friends – who I've known separately— are hugging and talking like old friends.

"Am I interrupting something? Because I can totally let you two get back to whatever it is you two are doing…" I pretend to shut the door, but a tiny heel wedges in the way.

"Isabella Marie Swan," I cringe at the use of my full name as they push their way in. "I thought I taught you better than to keep wearing ill-fitting hoodies… and my god, your pajamas—they have a hole!" Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize in advance for the tiny pixie from hell. Trust me: it only gets worse from here.

"In case you haven't noticed," I interrupt when she begins on my hair, "I'm in a lot of emotional pain- I think I deserve a break. I think the more important question is, how do you two know each other?"

They exchange a quick glance, and I don't miss Rosalie's slight headshake towards Alice. _Whatever the hell that means._ "We met at a Charity Ball I held a few years ago. The same one I invited you to." Alice says, her voice turning almost accusing at the end.

My brows narrow at the confusing dig, but I ignore the jibe. "I'm really glad to see you both. And…since you both know each other, I don't have to bother with the awkward introductions."

Rosalie smiles, handing me a small bag. "I'm glad we're here too. I brought some _chick-flicks_ as Emmett likes to call them, but I brought a few other things as well."

 **xXx**

Three hours, two and a half bottles of wine, and five games later, a very drunken argument erupts about a word used in scrabble.

"It does count!" I say, vehemently pointing a finger at the word in question.

"No it doesn't! Rosalie, back me up!"

"Hold on a minute! I'm trying to check online and see if it's in the dictionary! Don't yell at me!"

"Oh my god Rose, Bella lives in a freaking bookstore. Just go downstairs and grab a dictionary!" Alice shouts, her small eyes narrowing at my smug face.

"No way. No way in hell am I going down there at this time of night by myself! It's so dark and scary. Ah-hah! ... I found it. It's in here, it counts!"

"What? No!" Alice groans, looking over Rosalie's shoulder. "That's Urban Dictionary, that doesn't count!"

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because it's a "made-up word that's been put into the dictionary in the last few years!"

"So?" I say. "All words are made up, what makes the distinction between when a made-up word becomes a real word, and when one stays a made-up one?"

Rosalie laughs. "She's got you there."

"Ugh, fine whatever Bella."

"Eloquently put." I grin, and then laugh when she flips me off.

"Don't forget," Alice says slyly, "we're going shopping tomorrow, before the early Christmas shopping begins. You need to update your winter closet."

Shopping with Alice was a…. unique experience, to put it lightly. While I do enjoy shopping- it's at a much slower and almost, kind of relaxing pace. I take my time, go down all the isles, and basically do my own thing.

But with Alice, she knows exactly where to go; she has an idea in mind the moment we step inside a department store. And while yes, we will spend hours and _hours_ , inside many and all fashionable brands, it involves trying on so many outfits and shoes, that you feel like you're at the gym, getting your exercise in. Because lord knows, I'm always sore the next day.

It's my turn to groan, the smile slipping off my face. "Ugh, why do you always manage to get me to agree to go shopping with you when I'm drunk? You are taking advantage of me!"

"Oh definitely." Her smile scares me.

"Rosalie, do something. Help me!"

"Oh no, I know better than that girlie. You are on your own! Besides, I have my own shopping to do with Emmett."

"Lucky."

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Thank you for all the lovely reviews :) They make the week a lot less stressful! My favorite review this week was about getting Rosalie to hit Edward over the head with a frying pan. I don't think I'd be able to work that into the story, and not cause bodily harm to him, but it did make me laugh!

For curiosity sake, is there something in particular that you're hoping to see happen in the story? Like an adventure/detour or a new character? And believe me, I know Jasper hasn't made it into the story yet, and I feel like he needs to make an appearance at some point lol.


	15. Alaskan Mayday

N/A at bottom.

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

 _The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes- Marcel Proust_

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 **Chapter Fifteen**

Alaskan Mayday

 **.**

Sitka, Alaska was a rather small island town when compared to home, at just under ten thousand occupants. Picturesque with a light dusting of snow, the town thrummed with the hustle and bustle that only a small town could provide. The local shops had pulled out all the stops, decked out in the full Christmas spirit as the cab drove past.

"This is such a beautiful place." I say, glancing at Alice before once again becoming distracted by the views.

"It is, isn't it." Alice hums. She'd spent the entire car ride pointing out her childhood haunts. "Boring as hell though." For a self-proclaimed city girl I imagined it would be, but to me the town was full of nature adventures- boat rides, mountain climbing, hiking, who knows what else you could do in this town. I found myself almost saddened at the prospect of only being here a week.

"Oh there it is!" Alice clapped her hands excitedly, pointing towards the long driveway to a house that sat nestled on the hill, and surrounded by a large mountain.

My jaw hit the floor.

This was her house?

A mixture of brick and stone masonry, the tudor style home was large and opulent. On either side of the large wooden doors, bay windows jutted out beneath the steepled roofs, and brick chimneys were scattered all around the roof.

"This is your home?" I pick my jaw off the floor, barely, as the cab pulled up in front of the four car garage.

"Our winter home." Alice grins when she sees my slack jawed expression. "Just kidding!"

After helping us with our bags, the cab drove away, leaving us before the monstrous home. Walking up the cobbled steps, we had barely made it to the front door before it was flung open and a mahogany haired woman threw herself at Alice.

"Mom!" Alice cries, dropping her suitcase, to hug her mother around the shoulders. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"Oh I missed you sweetie!" Her mother croons, letting go of her daughter in order to examine her from head to toe. "Oh you look wonderful! Wait until your father sees you!" Turning towards me, she smiles, extending a pale hand towards me. "You must be Bella."

I shake her hand and smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mrs. Cullen."

"Likewise. I've heard so many wonderful things about you." she walked us inside, and after Alice had hugged her father, introduced me to Mr. Cullen- tall, early fifties with greying blond hair and crow's feet that appeared when he smiled.

"Where is everyone?" Alice asks, shrugging her bag to the living room floor. The room was wide, and open, with large windowed doors covering an entire wall, which looked down at field and woods beyond.

"They're running behind. It seems our nephew forgot to pack his wife's bags and didn't realize it until they were more than an hour away." Mrs. Cullen smiles, shaking her head ruefully.

"That's just like him," Alice chuckles, plopping down onto one of the plush tan sofas.

I follow behind her, placing my own bag on the floor next to my feet as I sit down. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," Mrs. Cullen beams. "Carlisle designed it and I did the interior designs. Would you like a tour?"

"Mom!" Alice admonishes, "We just got here. Give us some time to relax before you drag her on a walking tour of the place."

"Of course, what was I thinking." Alice's mom rolls her eyes. "I'll show you to your room at least. That way you can relax and then let me know when you want the guided tour." She winks and motions me to follow her.

I smile my thanks, and grabbing my bag I follow her up the stairs and down to the end of the long hallway where she pushes the door open.

The room was bigger than my living room and tiny kitchen combined. It was a cream colored concoction, with pale wooden floors and a high beamed ceiling. The bed sat center, covered in a grey and blue duvet that overlooked the wall-sized glass doors that observed the frozen lake and mountains in the distance.

Sitting my bag on the bed, my hands rise to my cheeks as I stare out the glass doors. "This is absolutely breathtaking. I love it!"

"It does have a rather spectacular view, doesn't?" She smiles softly, running a hand down the grey and blue duvet. "This was my nephew's room whenever he would visit, but he hasn't come in years, so I figured, why waste the view?"

"Believe me," I say, unable to tear my gaze away, "this view definitely will not go to waste."

"I'm glad to hear that," she says. "Take your time unpacking, and then hopefully I'll be able to introduce you to my other nephew and his lovely wife whenever they decide to deign us with their presence." Shutting the door, she leaves me to bask in the wondrous view below. It was hard to pull myself away from the scenery, but the sooner I finished, the sooner I could stare some more.

This trip was exactly what I needed. This would be the perfect opportunity to refresh and relax, and to completely wipe the slate clean of all things that had happened back home over the course of the last few months.

Well wipe it clear as much as I could. Although I'd been sending whatever money I could each week to his office, to pay back the loan, I hadn't heard a word from him and it worried me. I kept telling myself it was because of the shop. I still didn't know what was going to happen to it now that I'd finally, for good, ended whatever it was that we had with each other.

But for the next week, at least, my only concern was over-indulging in hot chocolate, and sneaking snowballs at Alice whenever I got the chance.

It took only a few minutes to fully unpack. Thanks to Alice lending me some of her cold weather gear, I'd only had to pack the essentials.

Stealing one more glance at the gorgeous view, I wander back towards the living room.

As I head down the stairs I can hear an influx of voices, and assume the rest of the family had finally arrived.

The first thing I notice when I reach the bottom of the stairs, is the beautiful blonde hugging Mrs. Cullen, and the hulking man beside her, who grins and waves at me. "Long time, no see, Bella!"

I flinch, my eyes automatically going back to the blonde, who's eyes snap up to mine as she lets go of Mrs. Cullen.

Her eyes are indiscernible. Surprised, definitely, at seeing me, and believe me the feeling was very much returned, but there was also, anger?

But no, not at me… at Alice. Rose's eyes are furious as she glares at Alice. Did she not want me here? Or was there some other reason she could possible be mad at Alice for?

But the answer reveals itself a moment later. "Rose? Em? Did you guys desert me again?"

My body stiffens, freezes, my eyes, as large as a doe, shoot between Rose and Alice; back and forth, unable to discern what I know I will see in only a moment's time. "Alice?" My voice is a broken whisper, a plea that will not go answered.

"Ah, so this is where the party is." Edward walks into the room, sitting his bag on the floor. He's picturesque in his dark jeans and grey sweater; just as heartbreakingly handsome as ever.

He hugs his aunt and uncle, completely oblivious to my internal ramblings as I stand petrified near the stairs- willing the floor to open, to devour me and to swallow me whole.

"It is such a surprise to see you, Edward!" Esme says ecstatic, hugging him once again. "I wished I knew you were coming. I gave your room to Alice's friend, so we'll have to place you in one of the other rooms."

"That's not a problem. Hopefully Alice's friend will enjoy the view as much as I-," turning to grin at Alice, his eyes land on my sunken form by the banister.

His jaw slackens, his eyes widening as they take me in. "Bella," his voice is a whisper, a symphony of my name, and yet I flinch back, hitting the banister. His mouth opens, closes, and opens again as he repeatedly tries and fails to speak.

"I-I didn't know," I whisper, hyper aware of the audience that surrounds us. " I didn't know. Alice said… she said it was her parents. I didn't know; she didn't tell me that it was your family too."

He shakes his head slowly, his adam's apple straining as he tries to articulate. "Don't." He swallows and tries again, "Don't be; I had no idea. I didn't know you were going to be here. I-I wanted to give you space. The last...the last thing I wanted to do was…" he trails off, running a hand over his face.

The stares are unbearable- pin pricks against my skin, and my ears itch at the hushed whispers and angry words between Alice and Rose.

Edward. I hadn't seen him in weeks. Hadn't dared tried. Not since I'd kicked him out; not since I had truly, once and for all, left my fate in his hands.

Carlisle clears his throat, trying and failing to break the tension in the room. "How do you two know each other?"

I inhale, shaking my head softly. Across from me, I see Edward, unconsciously, do the same. I'm being rude, incredibly rude by not responding, but what would I tell them? That he had been my… employer? Employer with benefits? Lover? My own devil incarnate? None of them fit; they all fit.

My heart is in an uproar. A pounding, wild beast that beats painfully against my chest. An angry, feral cat; a scared kitten. "I'll go. I don't want to get in the way of your reunion. It's the holidays, you should all be together." I flee up the stairs, ignoring Alice's protests and Edward's searing gaze.

.

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 **I'm sorry I've been MIA. It's been a hard year. Depression, mom and granddad in the hospital, and all that jazz. I've been feeling very guilty at not posting and I hope you don't all hate me. Feel free to message me if you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them. Thank you for sticking with me this long. I have one more chapter that will go up by the end of the year, and I'm hoping I can use this small break to write, write, write before school starts back up again.**

 **Thanks again guys XX**


	16. Truce

A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

 **.**

 _Truces may stop the battles, but part of you will always feel like you're at war."― David Levithan_

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 **Chapter Sixteen**

Truce

 **.**

"Alice is an idiot."

I turn from the open dresser as Rosalie enters and sits on the corner of the bed. "Did you know I was coming?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. And I didn't know Edward was coming either. It was kind of a last-minute thing. If I'd known you'd be here, I'd have never let him come."

"It's his family, Rosalie." I lean against the dresser and cross my arms. "I'm the one intruding- I shouldn't be here."

"You deserve to be with your friends." She says adamantly.

"And he deserves to be with his family."

She bites her lip for a moment, her face scrunched up as if in deep thought. "Whether-" she takes a deep breath, "whether you want to admit it or not, he took advantage of you. He put you in a situation where you had no choice but to agree to his so-called deal."

"I don't think you have come to terms with your thoughts or emotions, and I think you need the support of your friends now more than ever. I took care of you after the Gala and I saw what it did to you- how torn up you were over it. Don't let yourself suffer alone- not when I can help."

I grab the hem of my sweater, twisting the fabric in my fingers as I try to blink away the water that begins to line my eyes. "I don't know how I can be here. I don't know _if_ I can be here- not when he's only a few feet away from me."

"Look," she says softly "I understand if you want to leave, but I really hope you stay. I can make sure you never run into him while you're here."

I chuckle slightly, despite myself. "I don't need a bodyguard- although I'm sure you'd make a great one, but this is a lot. I'm still trying to come to terms with everything. He did take advantage of me, initially. He never took sexual advantage of me, and I consent to it every time, but I could have also refused, and I didn't."

"No, don't blame yourself." She grabs my hands, squeezing gently. "I've known Edward for a long time, and I never thought he would do something like this, but that doesn't make you responsible for his actions. He took advantage of your situation, and just because you agreed to it, doesn't make any of it your fault. It's going to take a while to heal- and to be honest, you may never truly get over it, but you can eventually put yourself in a situation where this will not define you. This will not stop you from having the best damn bookstore in the world if you want."

A choked laugh bursts through me. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?" I hug her tightly. "I'll stay."

 **xXx**

Rosalie and I talk for a while longer, before making our way back to the living room.

There is quiet chatter through the room, pointed words between Alice and Edward. Rosalie gives my hand a squeeze of encouragement, as she makes her way over to Emmett and his parents.

I take a breath, stilling myself for a conversation that I don't want to have, but must. And yet I know this conversation will only delay the inevitable conversation that I must have with the each separately. Walking up to Alice and Edward, I look them both in the eyes and say as calmly as possible "Can I speak to you both for a minute?"

Alice's nod is one of regret, and very much reminds me of a scolded child, while Edward's nod is sad, and somewhat confused, as he looks between me and Alice.

They both follow me outside onto the back porch, where the wind blows precariously.

I fold my hands across my chest, waiting as Edward slides the glass door shut, before turning to look at me. "I want to call a truce." I say to them both, my voice calm and steady, despite my rumbling nerves. "I don't want to intrude on your family reunion."

I hold up my hand, silencing them when they both begin to protest. "But I also want to be with my friends for Christmas- which means I want to be with you, Alice, and Rosalie- despite you lying to me."

"I didn't lie to you!" Her voice is adamant as she takes one small step towards me.

"Lying by omission is still a form of lying. Did you know Edward was who I was going to see, when I went to discuss the loan on the bookstore?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't know who the loan was through, until we had lunch- after you agreed to the contract to be his employee." I see Edward stiffen beside her. "But when I figured it out, I didn't want to say anything, because I could see how much you'd changed."

"Changed?"

"Bella, you were sad- so sad after your father died. No matter what I did, I didn't feel like I was making a difference. There was a part of you missing, and after you met him- I could see you coming back to me. I was afraid you'd be mad at me. I was afraid you'd disappear again."

I give a small, humorless laugh. "Alice, it's not like you can change who you're related to. You've known me for years; you should have known I wouldn't have held something like that against you. It's the fact that you knew all along, and you still didn't tell me."

She purses her lips. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Edward says, when my gaze lands on him. And I know that's not the only thing he's apologizing for. "I didn't know that you knew my cousin."

I hold up my hands to the both of them as a peace offering. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. And Lord knows, I can't deal with the past right now. That's why I called you guys out here. I want a truce."

They both nod, regarding me curiously. "I don't want to talk about what happened, if we can help it. This is a holiday- a time to be cheerful and jovial towards one another, and I'd hate to ruin that while I'm here. I know we have a lot to talk about, and I promise you, I'm willing to talk to you both," I say, my eyes resting on Edward. "but after Christmas. Let's just go about things normally. Can you both do that?"

Their nods make me loose a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Good. Now let's go salvage the rest of the evening."

* * *

 **.**

 **Short Chapter, but hey, at least I posted something in a reasonable time period (yay, gold star for me).**

 **Thank you guys for your kind words and support. It honestly makes a big difference. I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday and wish that you all have a happy happy New Year! XXO**


	17. Christmas Cookies

A/N at bottom, per usual :)

* * *

 **Now That You're Here**

.

 _"Buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?"_

 _._

 **Chapter Seventeen**

Christmas Cookies

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The Waiting Game, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is a strategy in which one or more participants withhold an action temporarily in the hopes of having a favorable opportunity for a more effective action later on. However the waiting game I find myself in doesn't seem to have a favorable outcome.

Here I am, in my twenties, playing a child's game, with adult consequences. What in the hell was I thinking?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"You okay there Bella?" The voice breaks through my silent revery.

I blink more times than acceptable for a rational human being, and answer intelligibly "huh? Uhm… yes!" _Ahh_... four years of higher education at work folks.

Alice and Rosalie share a look that makes me frown.

"What?"

"Are you sure?" Rosalie asks again.

"Yeah you seem kind of out of it." Alice agrees.

I shrug, turning back to the task at hand. The very messy task at hand. Of baking sugar cookies and decorating them horribly. I mean to be honest, no one decorates cookies for decoration, they decorate it with as much icing as humanly possible. The more icing the better I say.

"Uh… you wanna talk about it?" Alice nudges my shoulder, interrupting my attempt at creating a Santa hat. Icing goes halfway across two other cookies.

I turn slowly, icing bag raised in self defense. "Did you _see_ what you just made me do?"

Alice glances at the icing bag, then at the cookies, before looking back at the icing bag. She raises her hands in surrender. "It was an accident, I swear."

"I don't know if I believe her." Rosalie says, reaching for the bag of flour on the table. She clutches it tightly, as if she is the one being threatened by the pipe icing.

"What?" Alice almost screeches. She reaches for the giant container of sprinkles, brandishing it threateningly between the two of us.

Rosalie and I share a look, pointing our kitchen weapons towards her.

"You have two options," I say, "you can surrender or you can surrender."

Alice raises the sprinkles menacingly. " _Never_."

"If you mess up this kitchen there will be hell to pay." We all turn at the sound of Carlisle striding into the room. "Although from the looks of it, you guys aren't that far away from that."

"Hey, I didn't start this." Alice shrugs, slyly placing the container of sprinkles back on the counter.

Carlisle raises one single brow, the look saying more than words ever could. Rosalie and I watch as Alice's look turns to indigent outrage.

"I didn't-" She starts, buts stops when he raises his hands in an appeasing manner.

"It doesn't matter who started it, but when I said there will be hell to pay, I mean you will have Emse's wrath to face, not mine." Carlise says, "Although I think it would be very interesting to watch you girls get into trouble."

I laugh, earning a side smile from him, and lay my icing back on the table. "Don't worry Carlisle, we'll clean up before anyone is the wiser."

He walks out of the room, but no sooner have I spoken, then Emmett and Edward walk into the kitchen. Emmett whistles. "Did we miss the war? Who fired first, Aliceland or Roseworld?"

"Har har har," Alice leers, reaching for the sprinkles before thinking twice and setting it back on the counter. She slaps his hand away when he reaches for a cookie.

"Ow! What the hell. Isn't the point of Christmas to be about giving and sharing?"

"Sharing?" Rosalie gives an incredulous laugh. "When we stopped for lunch on the way up here, you ordered two large fries. _Two_! And you refused to let Edward or myself have any."

"Well they weren't Christmas fries."

Rosalie gives him a look that would make most men whither and die. Emmett merely shrugs and stares her in the eye as he slowly reaches for the cookies again. This time it's Rosalie who smacks his hand away.

With a spatula.

"Damnit woman!" He shrieks, cradling his hand to his chest. "Fine. _Fine_. Guess I'll just starve to death," he grumbles, looking to Edward for help.

"Don't look at me. You brought this on yourself." Edward grins. "Besides, I just watched you wolf down two chicken sandwiches."

"Let me guess, Christmas sandwiches?" I say, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

"No," Edward says, "he would have been forced to share them if they were Christmas sandwiches. They were just his monday afternoon snacks."

"Not even Christmas Eve Eve sandwiches?" I laugh.

"Those come later," Emmett says, jovial mood returning full force.

"Well you can have your Christmas Cookies later tonight when we give them to everybody." Rosalie says, "and _not_ a minute sooner."

Emmett holds his hands up in surrender, walking backwards out of the room. "I see how it is. I see how it is."

The minute he's out of the room, I reach for a cookie and take a bite.

"What happened to waiting?" Edward says, still smiling.

"Hey, I helped make the cookies, I'm above the rules." I say between bites. Like my own personal backup dancers, Alice and Rosalie both nod their heads in agreement and take a cookie.

Edward reaches for a cookie and I grab his hand to stop him. But the minute my hand touches his, I drop it like a hot iron. I can't explain why I reacted such away, but I can see the moment he reacts to my actions. He blinks several times, as if trying to clear his mind. His smile wans, losing it's boyish charm, and he drops his hand, as if it too was being burnt.

I do the only thing I can think of the remedy this declining situation. I reach out and hand him a cookie. "Don't tell Emmett."

And just like that, I stopped a mini disaster from taking control.

 **.**

 **xXx**

 **.**

After dinner, Emmett is finally able to get his cookies and eat them too. Everyone manages to get at least one cookie before Emmett descends upon them.

Esme and Carlisle surprise Rosalie, Emmett, and Alice with an early Christmas present and then Emse turns to Edward and I, who sit on opposite ends of the long sofa. "Although you two are last minute additions to our Christmas festivities, Edward more so than you dear Bella, I have a gift for you both as well." And she hands us each identical size boxes wrapped in silver snowflake paper.

We all tear into our presents a moment later, and we each received our own set of pajamas. Emmett and Rosalie's were a matching red and green flannel set, Alice's a concoction of bright pink silk, and mine was a grey and blue set, made of the softest material I'd ever felt. And Edward's looked exactly like mine.

If we wore them, we'd look like a couple.

"I know yours and Bella's match, Edward, but they were the nicest ones I could find on such short notice, and they're both just so soft!" Esme gushes.

"It's perfect," I say truthfully. "I love it. Thank you so much, that was very thoughtful of you."

"Yes, thank you." Edward says, stroking the material between his fingers.

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can exchange them later if you'd like."

"No, it's fine. Bella and I, we're… well- we're…" he trails off.

"We're friends." I finish. "Nothing wrong with having a matching set between friends." Who knew pajamas could make me a liar?

Rosalie raises one perfect brow. _Really_ , she seems to say.

I raise my brow back. _Do you have any better ways to clarify us?_

She shakes her head slightly, as if reading my mind, and changes our mental conversation. "It doesn't matter what any of you say, Emmett and I have the best set of pajamas."

"What?" Alice squeaks indignantly. "Did you see what they gave me?" She holds it up, as if none of had seen her bright pink, look at me, pajamas.

"Yeah, and your point?" Emmett says. "It's got nothing to do with Christmas! How does it count? Aren't our pajamas supposed to be Christmas?"

"I got them for Christmas! How are they not Christmas?" She argues.

"Since when is pink a Christmas color?" Edward chimes in.

"Oh like you're one to talk, Mr. grey and blue pajamas." Alice sticks out her tongue.

"I mean they kind of are." I argue. "I've seen lots of Christmas decorations with silver tinsel and blue garland around."

"But no one thinks of grey and blue and goes- oh yeah, Christmas!" Alice says.

"Yeah because they think of red and green!" Rosalie says, high fiving Emmett.

"So we can all agree that Rosalie and Emmett are the most Christmas-y and Alice is the least Christmas-y?" Edward says.

"Hey!" Alice shouts at the same moment there is a chorus of "Yes."

"What about yours and Bella's then?" Alice crosses her arms.

Edward and I share a conspiratorial look. 'Yeah those," I say, "those are just pajamas."

.

* * *

.

I wanted to name this chapter: "Is that an icing bag, or are you just happy to see me?' but that was just a little bit too long lol.

Short and sweet chapter, but it was fun to write! I wanted a little less tension this time around. Suggestions, comments, praise and a million dollars? Well maybe not that last one, but thank you guys for helping my story to reach over 200 reviews! YAYAYAYAYAY! Super exciting and I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support and kind words. You guys are wonderful, thank you! XXO


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